6 Days and 23 Hours
by K.S. Reynard
Summary: Five years after Command, Kursed has severed herself from the Lylat System and now works as a feared bounty hunter in a distant star system. However, after she contracts a terminal illness and is given a week to live, she realizes that in order to have peace before she dies, she must make amends for her actions by apologizing to the man who has caused her so much pain: Fox McCloud.
1. Chapter 1: Sickness and Despair

**Chapter 1: Sickness and Despair  
**

The lifeless, sterile waiting room of the downtown hospital reeked of antibiotics and the various forms of cleaning solvents which were used to keep the usually-busy room free from disease and filth. A flatscreen television cast the images of an uninteresting news broadcast onto the walls and floors of the waiting area, which was eerily devoid of activity in the early hours of the morning. The small, white room was completely empty except for two figures—a blue-furred vulpine bounty hunter known as Kursed and a gray lupine, who was the only man who could realistically claim to be a friend of the vixen. His name was James Byron, but he went by the title of Markheim for reasons he chose to keep to himself.

He sat beside Kursed, worryingly running his eyes over her attractive figure, which was covered with a form-fitting purple combat suit that she had quickly stepped into before she had left for the hospital. Out of sympathy, Markheim reached out his hand and softly stroked the vixen's shoulder. She would have lashed out at anyone else who had attempted to touch her; but because it was Markheim, she refrained. She gave no reaction to being gently caressed by the lupine; instead, she continued to sit in her white chair with her chin resting on her paws, her back curved, and a grim, almost tearful frown on her lips.

"You'll be fine, Kursed—I've seen you worse off than this," Markheim shakily said, attempting to disguise the fear and worry in his voice. The telepathic vixen slowly turned her head to look at him with her broken, aquamarine eyes and shook her head in reply. "Don't lie, Mark. I'm not okay."

Markheim removed his hand from Kursed's shoulder and leaned back in his uncomfortable waiting room chair, meaninglessly digging through the pockets of his black combat fatigues and pulling out his rectangular-shaped comms device that doubled as a personal computer of sorts. Most bounty hunters and mercenaries preferred wrist gauntlets to the easily-lost cellular devices, but Markheim had never cared for the clumsy, oversized communications interfaces. He checked his inbox for any updates on any pending bounties and found nothing. Earlier that day, he and Kursed had mutually agreed to team up to take down the vixen's most lucrative target; but after a series of highly unfortunate events, the wolf found himself in a hospital waiting room, seated beside Kursed, who looked deathly ill.

Her usually-proud face was twisted into a sickly grimace that revealed that she was struggling to avoid vomiting on the floor in front of her. Her body was quivering ever so slightly, but it was more than enough for the casual observer to know that it was not due to a lack of warmth. Her hair and fur were still moist from the emergency shower she had taken in an attempt to cleanse herself of the toxic chemicals she had unexpectedly come into contact with; and the tail rings she usually wore on her fluffy, blue brush were noticeably absent, having been left back at her residence before her and Markheim's frantic drive to the hospital. It was fortunate for her that he was around to help her, because on her own, she would have never been able to make it to the hospital.

Markheim attempted to speak to her, hoping to provide the vixen with a sense of solace; but he was never known for being particularly talkative or emotional. Perhaps that was the reason the usually-reclusive Kursed didn't mind having him around. The lupine was never intrusive to her and always allowed her to maintain her own personal space, even though she shared a joint residence with him on the industrial planet on which they normally lived and resided. On occasions, weeks—and even months—would pass without either of them seeing each other; and for the most part, they stayed out of each other's business, as it was understood to both of them that bounty hunters had a right to privacy.

The miserable vixen coughed heavily and clenched her teeth as Markheim snatched up the gray bucket he had brought with him and handed it to Kursed before she violently threw up into it. The lupine gave his associate a sympathetic frown as she wiped the vomit off of her lips and returned the waste bucket to Markheim, who placed it on the floor under his seat. He had witnessed his fair share of sickness and pain and experienced it for himself as well; but he had seldom seen anyone in as much pain as Kursed. Only making matters worse was the fact that nothing he could do would ease her suffering in the least.

Kursed's pained breathing was clearly audible to the lupine, coming out in slow, taxed gasps as she fought for air. Her eyes were tightly shut and her lips were moving, but no sound came out of her mouth. "Kursed? Is something wrong?" Markheim asked, shaking her arm slightly.

For a mere second, the vixen partially opened her eye and faintly shook her head "no." However, the reality was that everything about her felt wrong. At 1:18 A.M., in a vacant hospital waiting room, she reminisced on the last time she had felt anywhere near as ill as she did now.

* * *

That time had been less than two months after the end of the Aparoid War. She had fallen victim to the flu; and because the sickness was not prevalent on her birthplace of Cerinia, she had no immunity to it. She lay in bed in her quarters on the _Great Fox II_, a repurposed Cornerian warship Star Fox had purchased following the destruction of their original mothership. Death was a definite possibility for her. She had been given every known medication for the disease, but her body never seemed to respond to any of them. She had broken into a dangerously high fever and was pitiably weak. As she languished in a state of half-consciousness, Fox McCloud, her closest friend and leader, knocked at her door and requested permission to enter.

"_Come in,"_ Krystal whimpered in a voice so weak that Fox could barely hear her at all. He slowly opened her bedroom door and stepped inside before carefully sitting on her bed and lying down next to her with his hands placed behind his head on one of her blue pillows. "_I came here to check on you,"_ he worriedly spoke. "_Are you feeling any better?_"

The vixen sadly shook her head. "_Fox, I feel like I'm going to die._"

"_Don't say things like that, Krystal!"_ he quietly replied in a near-whisper, turning onto his side and looking Krystal in the eyes. "_I'm not going to let you die. I promise that we'll make it through this." _

Remaining silent, the vixen looked back at him with a pain-stricken gaze as a silver tear rolled down her face. Fox reached out his hand and gently caught the falling tear, preventing it from reaching the bedspread. Krystal faintly smiled at her friend and feebly leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose, bringing a tense smile to Fox's face as he lightly brushed the Cerinian's hair. Soon, he sat up and put his feet on the metallic floor of Krystal's room, preparing to leave her side and return to his own quarters.

Time meant nothing in the cold vacuum of space, but Fox felt that he needed to catch some sleep in preparation for the next day. The reconstruction of Corneria City after the Aparoid assault was proceeding more slowly than expected; and to boost the peoples' morale, Star Fox was scheduled to make a charity appearance at Corneria City's newly-constructed city hall the next day. However, Krystal's unexpected illness cast a dark shadow over the event, which Fox, Slippy, Falco, and Peppy had all been looking forward to. Krystal, on the other hand, was shy and timid in front of large crowds; and it was possible that she had literally worried herself sick in preparation for the momentous occasion following the most frantic combat the team had experienced since Andross's attack on the Lylat System.

Fox stood up and slowly shuffled toward Krystal's door, shutting off the lights as he stepped into the doorway.

"_Fox…_"

He turned his head and looked back at Krystal, responding to her plea. "_What is it, Krystal?_"

"_Please, Fox—don't leave me._" Her voice was tinged with sorrow and pain; and even though Fox was unable to see much of anything in the darkness surrounding the now-unlit room, he knew that Krystal was on the verge of tears. Carefully, he closed the door, made his way back to her bedside, and unzipped his jacket, tossing it onto the floor before pulling Krystal's bedsheets forward and climbing into bed next to her. The Cerinian sighed with an air of pained satisfaction as she shifted her eyes to meet his. "_Thank you_," she whispered, placing a paw on his chest beneath the silky sheets.

That night brought about the best sleep either of them had ever experienced before. Both Fox and Krystal slept deeply, completely unconcerned about any nightmares that may have sought to haunt their dreams. The next morning, Krystal awoke to find Fox kneeling by her bedside, watching her sleep and constantly monitoring her vitals to make sure that she would survive the night. She faintly yawned and weakly looked up at Fox, who sympathetically smiled back at her. That morning, his eyes looked more beautiful to her than she remembered. Something in them seemed to give her hope, telling her that everything would be alright and that she would return to health. "_Are you feeling any better_?" he asked, softly stroking her ear, causing it to twitch out of reflex.

"_Stop it_," she giggled, weakly raising her velvety, blue paw to bat Fox's hand away from her ear. "_I think so, Fox. Can you help me out of bed_?"

"_Absolutely_," he consented, pulling Krystal's sheets forward and tenderly grasping her paw, which she had extended for him. Carefully, he helped his infirm teammate to her feet and held her up in case she found herself unable to stand. However, she had no trouble maintaining her balance. Fox's eyes darted across her figure, which was accented with a short, white nightgown that suited her body beautifully. While he reveled in her beauty, Krystal stepped forward, placed both of her paws around his neck, and nuzzled into him. Fox immediately blushed, feeling uncertain about his female teammate's affectionate actions towards him. However, his uneasiness quickly turned to bliss, and he allowed himself to indulge in the moment. He tenderly held her in his arms for more than three minutes, with Krystal making no attempt to break free of his grasp.

He was about to let go of her, when she lifted her head from his chest and kissed him, overwhelming him with a sheer flood of emotions that he had never experienced before. The rational, sensible part of him quickly came out with words, telling Krystal, "_Stop! What if I get sick_?"

The vixen seemed completely unfazed by his retort. "_You won't,_" she murmured as she continued to shower him with her affections. It was not long before Fox gave into her provocation and returned her love with a passion he never thought he would have the capacity to express. He pushed her back onto the bed, making sure not to injure or hurt her in any way. She softly dropped to the springy surface with a sharp gasp as Fox lowered himself to the mattress and continued to dote on her before a knock at the door brought their passionate foreplay to a screeching halt.

Falco's voice could clearly be heard through Krystal's door. "_Fox? Are you in there? What the heck are you doing?_"

"_Nothing, Falco!"_ he shouted in response, albeit in an inordinately panicked tone of voice that vaguely tipped Falco off to what he had been doing. "_Oh, I see! Giving Krystal some love, eh?" _he taunted, making sure to push every one of Fox's metaphorical buttons before he changed the topic and said, "_Fox, we're supposed to meet in the hangar in twenty minutes. A shuttle just arrived to take us down to the planet's surface. Is Krystal going to be okay with this?"_

"_Are you going to be able to do this, Krystal?"_ Fox asked the vixen quietly enough so that Falco wouldn't hear him.

The Cerinian weakly gritted her teeth and replied, "_Only if you stay with me when they ask me to talk._"

"_It's a_ _deal,"_ he consented, agreeing to Krystal's terms. "_Falco, she says she's up for it."_

"_All right, Foxie—you'd better get ready, then. It doesn't look like they're happy about having to wait for us," _he said before walking away from Krystal's door and leaving her and Fox to themselves in the room.

* * *

"Ma'am, the doctor is ready to see you now."

The sudden noise of the feline nurse's voice pulled Kursed out of her sickened reverie. Slowly, she rose to her feet, with Markheim placing a caring paw on her back and helping her to stand up. The sickly vixen slowly trudged down the hall towards the doctor's examination room, following the feline nurse until she arrived at the dull, gray door to the medical room. She never turned to look back at her lupine friend, who wearily sighed and regressed back into his seat in the waiting room before playing with his communicator again.

"Come in," said the voice of the elderly doctor, a large collie. Kursed slowly entered the room as the nurse left the two canids to themselves and swiftly traveled down the hall to another room, where she would be of more assistance to the injured or infirm denizens of the downtown hospital. "Sit down," the doctor calmly ordered. With a noticeably great deal of difficulty, Kursed seated herself on the soft, faux leather pads belonging to the doctor's examination chair. The doctor keenly ran his eyes across Kursed's body, observing her face and eyes in particular. Every few seconds, he would quietly grunt and scribble down one or two words on his worryingly large clipboard, adjusting his powerful spectacles every time they attempted to slide down his long muzzle.

"This is not good at all," he muttered, quickly writing down a line of observations on his clipboard. "I'm afraid that I need more information, Miss Kursed. Please undress."

Unhappily complying with the doctor's request, Kursed stood up and unzipped her combat suit, letting it fall to the floor at her feet before she sighed and removed her undergarments as well. It was necessary for her to disrobe so that the doctor would be able to uncover what ailed her, but she felt ashamed nonetheless. She felt that her nudity was something that only belonged to her and… _that man._ She could no longer bear to speak his name. The mere thought of her leader and former lover was enough to spark tremors of angst and resentment in her mind.

An inkling of her being deeply desired to seek him out and forgive him for the tragic and unintended error he had made by dismissing her from his team; but over the years, Kursed had silenced and suppressed that small, quiet voice inside her mind. "_It was for my safety,_" she bitterly scoffed to herself. "_As if I couldn't protect myself."_

Instead of being taken as the well-intended order that it was, Kursed—known as Krystal at the time—took her leader's dismissal of her as an insult—an affront to her ability to protect and defend herself in the heat of battle. After leaving the hangar of the _Great Fox II _for the final time in her _Cloud Runner_ fighter, she swore to herself to prove that she was more than capable of holding her own against anything that dared to harm her. She joined Star Fox's rivals—Star Wolf—and proceeded to assist them in their fight against the Anglars' attack on the Lylat System, all while taunting her former lover by deliberately showing her affections for Panther Caroso, Star Wolf's newest member apart from her.

In spite of her attempts to prove to her former leader that he was wrong, she never felt satisfied. The war ended victoriously for Star Wolf, but not for Kursed, who slowly became a hated and despised figure among Lylat's populace, who began to hiss at her as she passed them. The burden of her situation quickly became too great for her to cope with; and with tears in her eyes, she abandoned Star Wolf, her former friends in Star Fox, and the Lylat System altogether, determining in her mind to never return to the system which she had called home after her homeworld, Cerinia, was destroyed.

Following a vague mental memory of the location of her doomed planet, she traveled far outside the Lylat System, eventually running out of food and fuel. Her body slowly began to wither away in the deep reaches of space as her ship's oxygen supply gradually diminished. It was by pure chance that she was rescued not too far from the orbit of a highly populated metropolis planet that was known as a premier locale for mercenaries and bounty hunters.

The man who saved her from the clutches of death had been returning from a successful assassination attempt on an important politician on a neighboring planet; and as he began his preparations to return home, he found the powerless white and blue _Cloud Runner_ floating aimlessly in space. The frigate he was piloting was large enough to contain the craft, so he pulled it in and quickly entered his ship's small hangar area to investigate his catch.

The man's name was Markheim, and the rest was history for Kursed. In the years following their chance encounter, they had come to know each other as close associates and confidantes, although their relationship never ventured past the 'mutual friend' stage. Romance was completely out of the question for both of them. For Markheim, it was due to his jaded and seared conscious. For Kursed, it was because after Star Fox, she felt that she would never be capable of truly loving another man. She had genuinely tried to love Panther when she flew with Star Wolf, but she could never shake her feelings that continued to tell her that she belonged with… _that wretched man_.

* * *

Kursed seated herself in the doctor's examination chair and uncomfortably crossed her arms in front of her breasts as the doctor closely examined her fur and underlying skin for the telltale signs of an illness. Temporarily, he turned his back and snatched up a needle from the counter behind him before he plunged it into Kursed's leg and drew a small quantity of the vixen's blood, causing her to momentarily yelp in pain. With the sample collected, he placed the collection tube in a white machine that began to run a diagnostic sweep on her blood in an attempt to locate the source of Kursed's illness.

The vixen and the canine doctor kept their eyes fixed on the small, blue readout to the right of the blood-filled tube, watching as the meter indicating the progress of the sweep slowly moved to the right, inching closer to its conclusion. In seconds, the screen flashed red, and a dissonant buzz emanated from the machine. The doctor furrowed his eyebrows in concern and stepped closer to the machine, intending to more closely observe the results of the scan. Kursed nervously squirmed in her seat as she waited to hear the doctor's verdict.

With a distraught, stony gaze, the collie slowly turned to face Kursed and said, "The blood sample indicates that you've inhaled significant quantities of _Myeroetheline." _He briefly paused, then continued, "Myeroetheline is an airborne toxin usually found in fuel tubes belonging to industrial machinery. It's been illegal for commercial use for quite some time, so I have no explanation for how you managed to inhale it."

Kursed fearfully looked back at the doctor. "What does that mean for me?"

For almost five seconds, the doctor looked away from Kursed before he hesitantly redirected his attention towards her. "It means that you probably only have about a week to live. The sickness will wear off soon, but it'll come back and enter its terminal phase in a matter of days."

"Is there anything I can do to stop it?" she pleaded, her eyes nearly filling with tears.

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. Personally, I suggest that you tie up any loose ends before you pass on."

The doctor's words seemed to drive an iron stake into Kursed's heart, already weakened by the effects of the toxin she had inhaled. No longer attempting to maintain her composure, she bitterly wept in the doctor's chair, filling the room with her earsplitting wails. The doctor forlornly glanced at her, feeling sympathetic towards the sickly vixen, but knowing that there was nothing he could do about her illness. When he had first graduated from medical school and entered the professional practice, he had been traumatized when his patients would die, even though he had done everything in his power to save them. Over time, though, he had learned to accept the inevitable and to avoid wasting energy on grieving for the terminally ill.

Compassionately, he picked Kursed's clothes off the floor and handed them to her, telling her to dress herself and to leave the room. The vixen slowly and tearfully complied; and after one minute, she returned to the hospital lobby, where Markheim was anxiously waiting for her. He was going to ask her about the doctor's prognosis, but when he saw the tears in her eyes, he realized that her illness was terminal; and he knew that she did not have much longer to live.

"Come on, Mark. Let's go," the vixen feebly whimpered, motioning for the door that would lead them out of the waiting room. The lupine wearily rose to his feet and followed his female friend out the door and into the hallway outside. Kursed led the way to the elevator and pressed the down arrow, causing the door to quickly open. Clearly, no one after them had used it. The hospital was eerily devoid of activity that night, only adding to the disheartening feelings that plagued Kursed and ate at her heart in an all-too-literal sense.

Both the vulpine and the lupine silently rode the elevator down to the bottom floor, with Markheim discouragingly scanning his friend's unhealthy figure. Even though he was less perceptive to emotions than most, he was easily able to discern that her spirit was broken. She was completely shattered, without a hope for the future to lean on. He briefly recalled when he had felt the same way. The only difference was that he had found a way out of his situation. Inversely, Kursed was powerless to escape from the obsidian claws of death that were slowly coming to claim her—to pull her down into the yawning abyss of the grave.

She attempted to maintain a straight face and appear confident; but the bitter, agonized scowl on her face never vanished. The fur beneath her eyes was darker than the fur that surrounded it, having been moistened by the many tears she had cried after hearing the doctor's dismal prognosis about the state of her health.

Shortly, the elevator 'dinged', and the two metallic door panels slid open to allow Kursed and Markheim to exit. The lupine took Kursed's cerulean paw in his powerful gray one and began to walk out of the building into the parking lot adjacent to the hospital building. It brought a mild degree of comfort to the grieving vixen to feel her friend's hand in her own. It was surprisingly warm, considering that many considered Markheim to be one of the coldest-hearted bounty hunters in existence.

A light, misting drizzle fell over the city as Markheim let go of Kursed's trembling paw and pulled his car's key fob out of his pocket, pressing a specially marked button which unlocked the vehicle and fired up the ignition all at once. The metallic gray-colored, angular, exotic sports car noisily came to life as its somewhat experimental plasma-based powerplant awkwardly initiated its mechanical heartbeat, creating a small explosive sound before quieting down marginally; although it was still obnoxiously loud, especially to Kursed's ears. Then again, Markheim's prototype road car was never intended to be subtle. He could have afforded a quieter model that rode on antigravity diffusers rather than wheels, but those vehicles tended to be unreliable when the weight figure exceeded 1,000 kilograms. However, the main reason he had selected the exorbitantly-priced vehicle as his land-based transportation was due to its imposing qualities that reflected those of his own persona.

Kursed struggled to climb into the red, leather-lined interior, crouching under the vertically-opening doors and trying to avoid hitting her head while entering the vehicle. Markheim effortlessly slid into his driver's seat and pressed a button that closed both of the doors before he reversed the car out of his parking spot and began to make his way back to the residence he and Kursed shared in a secluded part of a suburban area roughly fifteen miles from the city's center.

As Markheim turned out of the hospital parking lot onto a large, mostly empty avenue, he quietly spoke to Kursed, still keeping his attention focused on the road ahead and shifting into a higher gear to lower the engine's RPM and bring the noise level down somewhat. "What are you going to do, Kursed? How long did he give you?"

"A week," she pitiably muttered.

"Damn… that toxin was worse than I thought. Is there anything you want to do? Maybe take a relaxing vacation before you… well…"

"…Die? Don't be bashful, Mark," Kursed coldly replied. "I don't want to do anything. I'd rather die now than watch myself fade away into nothing."

"Is there anything I can do to make it better for you?" he asked, albeit in a voice that showed very little emotion.

"No, Mark," she said before correcting herself, "Actually, there is one thing you can do. Shoot me. There's no sense in me waiting to die. Just get it over with."

Still keeping his weary, intense eyes on the road, the lupine vehemently replied, "No. Absolutely not."

Pleading with him, Kursed cried, "Why not, Mark? Don't let me suffer like this! If you won't do it, I will."

"Please don't, Kursed!" he forcefully retorted. "Is there anything that would like to do before you die?" He briefly paused, pondering his choice of words. "If you could do anything at all—knowing that it would be the last thing you ever did—what would you do?"

Kursed lowered her head and looked away from Markheim, tears slowly forming in her eyes as she clenched her teeth, her mouth shifting into a spiteful, angst-filled scowl in the process. Her breathing intensified, and it became apparent that she was furious at someone or something. An enormous struggle was brewing within her mind, and for the rest of the trip home, she remained silent.

After Markheim pulled his car into his garage, Kursed quickly entered the house and walked to her room, slamming the door behind her and locking it without so much as bidding her friend goodnight. She pulled off her clothes and lay down on her bed with the room's lights turned off, leaving only the silver moon to illuminate her room.

Desperately, she opened the top drawer in the nightstand next to her bed and dug through its contents until she managed to grasp a ripped, torn photograph that appeared to have been repeatedly destroyed and then taped back together. The bottom corner of the small picture was singed black and looked about ready to fall off, and various parts of the photograph were partially smudged from being exposed to drops of a clear liquid. The picture depicted Krystal standing next to Fox McCloud in a field of flowers as the sun began to set in the horizon behind them. Both of them looked indescribably happy to be in each other's company. Their paws were locked together in love, and their eyes radiated a sense of joy that defied description. At the bottom right portion of the photograph was a series of words written in a silver, metallic permanent marker.

"_I love you, K—" _

The place where the name "Krystal" would have been written had been burned away and blackened by the flames that had claimed the picture's right bottom corner. With tears of hatred and anger mixed with genuine sorry and longing, Kursed tightly gripped the mutilated portrait and looked at Fox's face, always smiling back at her, never deviating from his confident, contented gaze. In a fit of anger, the vixen crumpled up the photograph and hurled it to the bedspread, falling into a prone position face-down on the bed. She sobbed and shed a flood of bitter tears, making no attempt to keep them from running off of her fur and dripping down onto the bed.

"Why did you do this to me, Fox?!" she yelled, picking up the damaged picture and unfolding it like she had done many times in the past. She looked again at his face, unchanged no matter how many times she attempted and failed to destroy the image of him and her together. The reality was that she couldn't bring herself to do it. No matter how hard she tried to purge herself of any feelings she had for Fox, there was always a sliver of her that still loved him.

Sobbing furiously, Kursed remembered the question Markheim had asked her in the car—the question that started it all.

"_If you could do anything at all—knowing that it would be the last thing you ever did—what would you do?"_

With her hands shaking, she gripped the picture of her and Fox and cried even harder. She looked down at the moonlit bed and noticed that her tears had created a moist spot that was more than a foot in diameter. That small part of her wanted nothing more than to find Fox and admit that in spite of her angst and despair; despite the fact that he had kicked her out of his team—her family—she still loved him. With nothing left to cling to, she finally caved and whispered, "_Please, Fox. Take me back. I don't care what you did to me anymore. I have nothing without you._"


	2. Chapter 2: Departure Notice

**Chapter 2: Departure Notice**

The night grew long, and the normally lively metropolis became nearly silent in the early hours of the morning. The digital clock on the nightstand next to Kursed's bed read 3:06 A.M.; yet she still found herself unable to sleep. Her illness had dissipated somewhat—or had it? Was it really just an illusion created by the searing pain of what she had done five years ago? The vixen knew not the answer. She merely stared up at the ceiling with her head on her soft, blue pillow. Sleep had evaded her for more than an hour now, and it appeared that it would not descend upon her anytime soon.

Her eyes were red from the deluge of tears that she had cried; and a twisted, pained frown painted her lips with a tragic form of sadness she had not felt since the day that her homeworld was annihilated. Many events could be forgotten or buried in the past, but two of Kursed's memories could not. The first was the demise of Cerinia; and the second was the day that Fox McCloud removed her from his team in the name of safety.

The blue vixen clenched her teeth in anger at the thought of her former friend, leader, wingman, and lover. Had they still been together, she would never have fallen from grace. She would have never been ostracized by the very people she had come to know as friends and associates and be forced to leave the system she had learned to call 'home.' She would have never known what it was like to kill, steal, and murder in cold blood, all for the sake of a paycheck. Truly, she had fallen far; and now that time was running out on her, she wondered if there was any hope of Fox feeling any traces of sympathy for her.

"_He's probably moved on," _she sadly mused as a tear rolled down her face, "_I'm sure he's found some other vixen to share his life with. He'll find a way to keep moving forward. He always has." _She covered her eyes and quietly whimpered in her room. The only noise apart from her soft cries was the mild whirring sound created by the spinning fan mounted on her bedroom's ceiling. Markheim was locked away in his quarters; leaving Kursed to cry alone with only the slowly-setting silver moon as a witness to her sorrow.

For the first time in several years, she cried out Fox's name, vainly hoping that he would hear her and come to her side, just like he had in the past. As expected, the only sound that came back to her ears was the constant, unchanging noise of the spinning fan blades above her. In that moment, she felt completely and truly alone. She cursed the fates that had allowed her to come into contact with the toxic chemicals responsible for placing a ticking clock on her shattered, pathetic, broken existence.

How badly she wanted to embrace Fox and throw her arms around him; feeling his strong, muscular physique pressed against her own the way that she had so many times before. Even his mere presence had a calming effect on her; and she wanted nothing more than to simply be around him. _"Is it too much to ask?" _she desperately wondered to herself, debating whether or not Fox would be willing to accept her for what she had become. As much as she would have liked to revert back to her former self, her decisions as Kursed the bounty hunter had irreversibly changed her character into someone—or something—that she had never dreamed of becoming.

In addition to Fox, she thought about her mother and father. Would they have been pleased with their renegade daughter's actions? Deep in her heart, Kursed knew that the answer was a resounding "no." They would have been appalled by the person she had become. With no one to genuinely care for her, she felt completely empty and devoid of any worth or value. Over the years, she had accumulated a sizeable fortune as a feared bounty hunter; but money meant nothing to her now. All she wanted was a chance to redeem herself for what she had become. As much as she wanted to blame Fox for her regression, she knew that no one was at fault except for her.

With a heavy and broken heart, Kursed slowly sat up and slid over to the edge of her queen-sized bed, allowing her feet to hang in midair above the soft, plushy, carpeted floor. She only had a week to live, and traveling all the way back to the Lylat System would take four days at the very least. Even if she was able to reach the system she had formerly resided in, finding Fox would prove to be even more difficult. The vulpine was not known to keep a regular residence; instead, he tended to jump between rented spaces when he was unable to maintain his own personal ship. Still, Kursed knew that she had to find him. It was the only way she could have any kind of closure before she passed away.

With her mind made up, she feebly muttered, "Please forgive me, Fox," before sliding off the bed and dressing herself in the clothes she had dropped on the floor after returning from the hospital. She quietly opened her bedroom door and paced across the hardwood floor of her and Markheim's residence, making as little noise as possible to avoid waking the lupine, who was known to be a very light sleeper. Noticing a moderately-sized sticky note pad on the kitchen counter near the center of the dwelling, Kursed scrounged the area for a pen, eventually locating a chrome-plated specimen that her counterpart was very fond of. She pulled off the cap and began to write her farewell letter to the lupine who had become her only source of companionship after she had fled the Lylat System.

"_Markheim, thanks for being kind to me when I never deserved it. You're the only person I can trust not to turn on me, even if you were paid to do it. Thank you for seeing something in me that I never saw in myself."_

She skipped a line and finished her short, concise note.

"_I'm sorry to say it, but this is goodbye. You won't see me again, because by the time you find out where I am, I'll already be dead. I wish you luck with your future, Mark._

_Farewell— Kursed."_

"_P.S.—The code for my safe is 15-46-31. Inside are more than 2 million hard-earned credits. Go buy yourself something nice. Hopefully, you'll think of me every time you see it."_

Kursed placed the cap back on Markheim's favorite pen and set it down next to the pink-colored note before walking down a nearby hall and opening the door that led to the underground hangar where she and Markheim stored their respective ships. A long flight of stairs brought her to another door, which she effortlessly unlocked by entering the four-digit code that only she and her friend possessed. The metallic panel slid open with a hiss, allowing Kursed to enter the surprisingly large hangar.

The room where their ships and vehicles were kept was nearly spotless. Markheim made it a point to make sure that his residence was kept as clean as possible; and the hangar area was no exception. The space was pitch dark, but Kursed managed to locate the light switch for the room with minimal effort. The plasma-based lights quickly and seamlessly powered up, allowing the vixen to observe the various vehicles and weapons contained within the hangar.

She ran her eyes over the hull of her _Cloud Runner_ fighter, sadly reminiscing on her past with the ship, which now sported metallic purple paint instead of the blue and white livery it had originally been painted in. The fighter had been a gift to her from Fox more than five years ago. It was based off of the Arwing, but it featured several unique design features that she had insisted on; namely, the very appearance of the fighter, which was based on the form of a flying pterodactyl. The engines had been slightly upgraded to allow for a slightly higher top speed than her old Arwing, and the interior had been specially trimmed in the finest leather from Zoness, which was dyed blue and lovingly hand-stitched just for her.

With resignation, Kursed slowly walked over to her weapons rack where she kept all of her firearms, along with her ancient Cerinian battlestaff. Lately, she had avoided using the elegant weapon; even going as far as to cover it with a blanket to avoid having to look at it every time she armed herself for a job. The weapon brought back too many memories of _Krystal_—the person she could never become again.

Now, though, she tightly clenched her teeth and forced herself to pull away the gray cloth that covered her staff. The blanket fell to the metallic floor of the hangar, revealing the beautiful weapon her parents had handed down to her. It was the staff belonging to Cerinian nobility, and it was considered a great honor to be able to use it. The vixen gingerly picked up the staff and held it lengthwise in her blue paws, sobbing quietly while playing back the memory of the day she had first received it.

"I'm sorry, father," she whimpered, feeling genuinely sorry for the atrocious acts she had committed with the weapon her father had entrusted her with. She felt that she had defiled the ancient staff, even though it was a mostly inanimate object. The vixen sorrowfully gazed at the weapon's golden tip, forcing herself to look at the small, almost unnoticeable blood stains on it. She had desperately tried to clean them from her staff, but the marks would not go away. They would always be there to remind her of the horrible crimes she was guilty of.

With a tearful countenance, Kursed removed a heavy bullpup assault rifle from her weapons rack, along with four extra plasma magazines. She knew that the weapon would be unnecessary for what she was setting out to do, but it had become second nature for her to arm herself to the teeth before leaving her residence. After collapsing her staff and sliding it into its designated holster on her left hip, the vixen walked over to the hangar's refrigerator, where she selected an assortment of food and water rations for the long flight ahead of her before she slowly climbed onto her _Cloud Runner_'s right wing and into the blue-trimmed cockpit.

The _Cloud Runner_'s reinforced glass canopy slowly closed over her, sealing her inside with a faint hiss. Taking a deep breath, Kursed powered on the ship's main processor and remotely activated the hangar's roof panels. The heavy steel plates slowly slid open, allowing the vixen to gaze up at the starry sky above her. With the roof opened, she activated her fighter's engines, idling them and then repeatedly punching the throttle while still in place on the ground to allow them to warm up. Plasma-core fighters such as hers were known to develop running issues if they were cold-started after long periods of non-usage; and it had been more than a week since the last time she had flown it.

The purple fighter's powerplant smoothly spooled up while the engine's power readouts and operating details became visible on Kursed's dashboard. Before leaving the ground, the blue vixen removed her blue and black pilot's helmet from its post in the cockpit and slid it onto her head, making sure that her ears fit correctly through their respective slots in the top of the helmet. She turned on her HUD, causing the ship's altimeter, speed gauge, and weapons system data to appear in front of her eyes on the gold-plated visor.

After looking up at the sky one more time, Kursed feathered the _Cloud Runner_'s lift controls, slowly easing the fighter off the metallic surface of the hangar until it floated above the house which the hangar was affixed to. As she checked her thrusters to ensure that all of her fighter's systems were functioning properly, the memory of her first time in an Arwing returned to her. She clearly remembered it as if it had happened less than a week ago.

* * *

"_Krystal! Easy! Don't wreck it!"_ Fox nervously shouted over Krystal's headset while she clumsily raised her new Arwing off the tarmac outside the Corneria City military complex. "_Remember your training! Keep it smooth. Don't be jerky with the controls—bad things only happen when you try to force it."_

"_I'm trying, Fox! It's really jumpy!" _she desperately replied, doing everything she could to maintain control of the touchy fighter which she had just been introduced to.

* * *

Formerly, that memory had brought an embarrassed smile to her face, especially when Fox would tease her about it. Now, however, it brought tears of anger to her eyes that refused to remain dry. She bitterly attempted to force back the tears while setting her ship's navigation system for the distant planet where she hoped she would be able to find Fox. The odds of her being able to track him down were slim, but she knew that she had to find a way to do it.

A yellow arrow appeared on her helmet's visor, indicating for her to bear slightly to her right and to increase altitude in order to exit the planet's atmosphere. When the arrow was perfectly aligned with the center of her vision, Kursed accelerated the _Cloud Runner_ and quickly broke through the thin cirrocumulus clouds high above the planet's surface. Upon entering the stratosphere, she braced herself for the exit through the mesosphere, which came upon her before she expected it to. Red-hot flames flashed across her fighter's canopy before the atmospheric turbulence came to a gradual end as the _Cloud Runner_ left the planet behind and began the long journey through space, all the way back to the Lylat System where it had been built.

Having completed the only part of the journey that required her input (apart from the landing), Kursed unfastened her helmet and placed it back on its hook next to her seat. Following that, she switched her fighter to autopilot and unbuckled her seat belt, allowing herself to carelessly lounge in the comfortable pilot's seat that had been tailored to fit her figure. With the fighter's dashboard display bathing the cockpit in an eerie blue glow, the vixen closed her eyes and fell asleep amongst the stars.

* * *

"Bill! Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"N…No, Fox! I…I've got it!" the bulldog hoarsely replied, forcing a heavy barbell up from his chest before dropping it onto a metallic catch, where it came to rest. He quickly sat up and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "…And that's a personal record!" he jubilantly announced to Fox, who seemed slightly jealous of his friend and former classmate's prodigious strength.

"250 pounds? That's ridiculous, Bill," Fox snorted in reply. The vulpine took a quick look around the gym, attempting to locate the nearest clock. It had been Bill's idea to pay a visit to the exercise facility in the first place; although Fox knew that his friend had only done it because he wanted to discuss something with him. He was well aware that Bill wouldn't waste his time by bringing him to his 'gun show' for the sake of his own pride.

With their intense, heavy workout finished, Fox and Bill slowly meandered off towards the locker room, where their normal clothes were kept. While Bill opened his locker and pulled out his military fatigues, Fox used the facility's shower to clean himself of the copious amounts of sweat that had saturated his fur. Three minutes later, he exited the shower area with a towel wrapped around his waist. By that time, Bill was already dressed and ready to leave; and when Fox re-entered the main area of the locker room, he found him playing with an app on his communications device. Recognizing Fox, Bill quickly paused his mini-game and glanced up at the vulpine, immediately noticing the large gash on his right shoulder. The cut was very deep, and it had undoubtedly been inflicted by a large knife—most likely a machete. However, what concerned Bill the most was the trace of blue around the area of the incision.

"Whoa—Fox! Don't you think you should have that looked at?"

"Oh, this?" Fox trivially asked, as if it was merely a scratch. "I don't think it's a problem. It stopped hurting a few days ago."

The canine was not convinced that Fox's injury was less serious than he initially thought. In a concerned voice, Bill said, "I don't like the look of it, Fox—I've seen wounds like that before, and things don't usually end up too well for the person who has one."

"Bill, I'm fine. It's nothing," Fox reassured him as he opened his locker and took out his mercenary gear.

Two minutes later, both Fox and Bill exited the gym and walked down the dimly-lit sidewalk until they arrived at a nearby coffee shop, which Bill insisted they walk into. Not wanting to upset his friend, Fox followed suit and entered the building after him. However, when he set foot inside the small coffee shop, he immediately realized why Bill had brought him here. In the back of the diminutive, intimate restaurant was the aged, rotund form of General Peppy Hare, dressed in a casual black suit with a matching tie.

While Bill ordered two cups of black coffee for Fox and himself, Peppy motioned for Fox to sit down across from him. Still weary from his workout, Fox slowly slid out his chair and dropped down into it before asking his former teammate, "What is it, Peppy? It's not like you to do this."

Peppy took a quick sip of his expresso and coldly replied, "You're not safe, Fox."

"What do you mean, Peppy? Of course I'm not safe! It's my job not to be safe!"

"It's different this time, Fox," said Peppy, motioning for Bill to sit down next to Fox. "I'll let Bill explain."

"Yes, General," the bulldog soberly replied before turning to the vulpine mercenary. "Fox, we recently found out that someone has placed a huge bounty on your head. I don't know how you managed to attract that much attention; but whatever you did, you really pissed someone off."

"How much are they offering?" Fox solemnly asked.

"15 million."

Fox's eyes opened wide, and his heart rate immediately escalated at the mention of the sheer amount of money that was being offered—for killing _him_.

He began to panic slightly, but he still managed to keep his emotions mostly under control. Sternly looking into Peppy's eyes, he asked, "Do you know who's responsible for this?"

The General forebodingly answered, "We don't know right now, Fox; but we're working on it. However, I insist that you move to a new residence _immediately_. Where you are right now is not safe. If you need somewhere to spend the night, you can use my house. They won't look for you there."

"Thanks, Peppy. I'm glad you guys told me about this before it was too late," Fox warmly replied.

In spite of Fox's comment, Peppy's expression did not change in the least. Almost in a whisper, he said, "Fox, it might be too late for you already. If it is, you'll have no choice but to leave the Lylat System."


	3. Chapter 3: The Hunter and the Hunted

**Chapter 3: The Hunter and the Hunted**

In sharp contrast to Kursed, Markheim had been blessed with a deep, restful sleep that washed away his tiredness from the previous day's grueling activities. As the clock struck 8:00, he slowly opened his eyes and yawned, breathing in the fresh air of his elaborately decorated bedroom. Most bounty hunters couldn't have cared less about their surroundings as long as they were survivable, but Markheim was not one of them. The lupine considered himself a gentleman and prided himself on acquiring the nicest possible possessions for himself.

His car had cost a large sum of money that would have caused a commoner's jaw to drop, and his house—although not ostentatious by any means—was large and well-appointed, replete with every accessory and necessity that he desired. His wardrobe was full of fine clothing that he took great pride in wearing; and his house's carpets, bedsheets and cloths were of the highest quality. However, money and possessions were not the driving forces behind his motives as a bounty hunter. Simply put, he was motivated by the 'thrill of the kill'—hunting down a quarry and inventing new and creative ways to bring their fearful, pathetic existences to a terrifying and morbid end.

Wondering what kind of bounties would present themselves in this new day, Markheim slowly climbed out of bed and deftly picked his purple bath robe off of its respective hook, wrapping it around himself and tying the plush garment's straps together. Without a care in the world, he opened his bedroom door and strolled out into the large living room area, which was appointed with couches and chairs made of the finest leather that money could buy.

Strangely, his female counterpart was not up and about this morning. "_Strange," _he thought, "_Usually, she's up by 7:00._" He gave her the benefit of the doubt; because after all, she had been through a lot the day before and was slowly dying from a lethal toxin she had accidentally inhaled while trying to take down a target with Markheim's help. Very little was on the lupine's mind as he entered his small but elegant kitchen and opened the refrigerator, removing a leftover plate of grilled red meat that he had intended to share with Kursed. However, since she was not awake, he decided that it was his for the taking. After placing the dish in the microwave and setting the timer for 45 seconds, he lazily scanned his surroundings, not noticing anything in particular until his eyes froze at the sight of the pink sticky note Kursed had left on the counter for him.

He quickly ripped the note from the marble surface and raised it to his eyes, reading the message the blue vixen had left him before she departed from his company.

"_I completely understand, Kursed,"_ he silently spoke before opening his trash bin and throwing the note away. There was no point in him keeping it. Kursed was gone, and she wasn't going to come back. The wolf had to admit that he had developed quite an affinity for the blue vixen; but at the same time, he knew better than to become attached to anyone or anything. He had learned that lesson the hard way many times before.

Shortly, the microwave timer dinged, letting Markheim know that his food was ready. Feeling somewhat disappointed at his friend's absence, the lupine removed the meat from the microwave and sat down at the small, glass table just outside the food preparation area. In an alarmingly short period of time, he practically inhaled his food, leaving nothing on his plate, which he licked in order to savor every last drop of flavor from his meal. If Kursed had been around, he would have kept his manners much more 'gentlemanly'; but because she had left, he saw no reason to hold back and attempt to remain civilized.

With his hearty breakfast completed, Markheim washed his greasy paws and walked through the living room into his office, where he kept his main computer along with thousands of paper files related to past jobs and objectives. Normally, the office area was a complete mess; but recently, he had taken the time to organize it after the clutter had become a greater nuisance than usual.

The lupine casually pulled his leather office chair out from under from his desk and sat down in it before pressing the power button on his desktop computer, an ergonomically-focused model that shunned the need for a tower by housing all of its electronic components inside its slim monitor. The device emitted a quick musical sound and powered up rapidly, allowing Markheim to access his mail inbox and check up on any posted bounties that he may have not been aware of.

Casually, he clicked the emblem shaped like a white letter, bringing up his email. To his dismay, no new messages had been sent to him. He had secretly been hoping that Kursed would send something his way; but then again, he knew that he needed to erase the memory of her and move on. Life was not meant to be lived in the past, and dwelling on the memories of his vixenly friend would only make life more difficult for him.

With no new mail, he dragged the small, black, wireless mouse across the soft surface of his mousepad, bringing the small arrow on the computer screen to rest above the logo of the Bounty Hunter Collective. The Collective was a secretive web service founded by bounty hunters for bounty hunters. It was a place where bounties could be placed, claimed, and contested. Although the site also featured an area where fellow bounty hunters could communicate and interact with each other, very few of them actually utilized it. Ever since its inception more than twenty years prior to the present date, the Collective's founder and his closest associates had gone to great lengths to make certain that no one associated with a law enforcement agency or a planetary government would be able to enter the site. This was especially fortunate because many of the posted bounties were anything but legal.

Lightly tapping his mouse, Markheim opened the main menu for the Collective's web service and entered his credentials before being allowed access to the site. His bounty hunter title appeared in the right corner of the screen, along with the number of past 'hits' he had accrued over the years. The number was impressive, to say the least. Most bounty hunters never managed to score 50 hits, or completed jobs; but Markheim's hit count was beginning to flirt with four digits. Only two other hunters in the history of the Collective had ever managed to best Markheim's figure, and both of them were dead.

Admiring the number '990' next to his name, he smiled and opened the Task List, where all pending and active bounties were placed. Most of the time, none of them would catch his eye. For the most part, bounties were placed on those who had earned the ire of an angry bounty hunter; and as a result, they were generally low-paying jobs that failed to interest Markheim in the least. He was beyond simple revenge-based tasks such as the ones he took up early in his career. Nowadays, he only accepted the largest and most lucrative offers—even ones that were jokingly meant as death wishes by some of the pranksters within the bounty hunting community.

As usual, the "Updated: Most Recently" menu did nothing for him. He refused to work for less than 100,000 hard credits, but most of the recently-posted bounties failed to exceed 15,000. Unhappily shirking the menu, he changed the search parameters and selected "Value: Highest to Lowest," bringing up a list that suited his eyes much better and brought a crooked smile to his face.

The highest-paying job was an assassination attempt on the Governor of Eledard in the Lylat System, valued at 100 million credits. Markheim laughed at the job description, which simply said, "He needs to go. Get rid of him." That job had been up for more than three years because every sensible bounty hunter knew that the Governor of Eledard was obsessed with security and always surrounded himself with a small army of armed guards. Even Markheim had to admit that the job was impossible, even for a skilled bounty hunter such as himself.

He lowered his eyes to the task below the first one and grinned when he realized that it was a genuine offer worth 15 million credits. He had completed a task worth 20 million in the past, but jobs that paid this well were beyond rare. Intrigued by the label, he clicked on it, bringing up the pictures of the employer and his target. The employer was an imposing black bear that went by the name of Vincenzo di Luca. Markheim carefully read the information related to the bear, nodding in approval of his status as a former general of the Venom Army in the distant Lylat System.

"_It's a long way,"_ he thought, "_But it's worth it for 15 million._"

Satisfied by his potential customer's status, he observed the target of his bounty: a red vulpine who went by the name of Fox McCloud. Markheim carefully moved his eyes across the picture of his prey, analyzing him for any prominent physical features that would aid in his upcoming task.

"_Hmm… typical vulpine form, middling weight, looks to be in good shape, but not ripped. Shouldn't be too difficult if it comes to a fight. But what about his mental ability?"_

The lupine paused and scratched his muzzle, pensively scanning Fox McCloud's picture for anything else he could observe without digging deeper and opening files related to him. However, nothing else about Fox stood out to him. Two minutes later, Markheim could be found quickly typing on his keyboard and searching for 'Fox McCloud' with his internet search engine. He clicked the first link that appeared on the screen, which led him to an internet encyclopedia where information about the mercenary vulpine had been posted in an organized, semi-professional arrangement. Intently, Markheim read the biography of his next target.

"_Fox McCloud is best known as the former leader of the Star Fox mercenary team in the Lylat System. His actions in the Lylat Wars and in the Aparoid Conflict have distinguished him as a well-recognized hero, revered and respected by many residents of Lylat and especially Corneria. Currently, he is retired, along with the other former members of Star Fox."_

Markheim continued to read the detailed biography of Fox McCloud, but the first paragraph was enough for him to get the gist of what he was up against. He felt somewhat guilty for plotting to eliminate a well-respected hero who had done nothing to earn the mark that had been placed on his head. However, money talked; and 15 million credits was more than enough to convince Markheim to give his limited emotions the proverbial middle finger and begin hunting the vulpine mercenary.

"No time like now to get moving," he quietly muttered to himself, standing up and leaving his office.

As he was still wearing only the bath robe he had donned after rolling out of bed, he walked back into his bedroom and then into his large closet, where he selected five matching black combat uniforms and a dressy set of clothes to use in the event that he needed to change his appearance in order to look less like a bounty hunter. He quickly dressed himself with one of the five uniforms before stowing the rest of his clothing in a nondescript black bag that was kept in the closet for scenarios such as this.

After zipping up the large, black bag, Markheim left his bedroom and descended the flight of stairs down to the underground hangar, where his frigate was docked. To his surprise, the hangar lights were still on. This was because Kursed had neglected to turn them off before she had left the night before. The area where her _Cloud Runner _was normally parked was eerily empty, along with the padded case where her staff usually rested. Feeling mildly disappointed, the lupine simply stared at the empty hangar space where Kursed's ship used to be.

"_She was a good friend,"_ he muttered to himself, shaking his head and stepping into his dark gray frigate, which was roughly three times the size of the _Cloud Runner_. The ship had barely managed to fit into the hangar to begin with—in fact, the hangar space where the frigate was docked had to be redesigned in order for the bulky craft to be able to land in it.

After setting foot in the frigate, Markheim pressed the button which closed the ship's side doors and sealed him inside. He took a quick look towards the back of the frigate, where his comprehensive arsenal of weapons was located. Nothing was missing, and everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. With a satisfied smile, Markheim slid into the black leather pilot's seat and ignited the craft's engines, simultaneously opening the hangar's roof and allowing the sun's brilliant rays to enter the hangar. The bright sunlight cascaded off the metallic frigate's armored hull and danced around the hangar surrounding it, temporarily providing additional illumination to the large, underground area.

With the frigate operating normally, the lupine slowly and gingerly lifted the craft out of the hangar, being mindful not to hit the concrete walls that made up the entry and exit to the hangar. Now aloft in the midmorning air over the teeming metropolis where he lived, Markheim opened the ship's navigation system and entered the travel-related data for Papetoon. One would ask why he would choose to travel to the small, dusty planet instead of the world where his target resided; but Markheim was already thinking ahead. He knew that Fox would hear about his outstanding bounty—and so would the police and the militia. Most likely, bounty hunters on Corneria would be heavily scrutinized in order to prevent them from laying a finger on Fox.

His frigate was registered as a freelance military ship, meaning that if he landed it anywhere on Corneria, he would immediately be recognized as a bounty hunter and carefully monitored as a result. His plan to reach Corneria revolved around landing his ship on Papetoon and then catching a ride to the Lylatian capital on a civilian transportation craft, which would help him to keep his identity hidden more easily.

Having completed the plans and preparations for his trip, Markheim manually piloted his frigate out of the planet's atmosphere and into orbit, where he prepped his ship's warpdrive for the journey to Lylat. According to his ship's computer, the trip would take him roughly three days and two hours; in comparison to the four days that Kursed would need to reach the same destination. One reason for this was because the warpdrive on Markheim's frigate was larger and more powerful than the one installed in the _Cloud Runner_. The other reason was because Kursed would have to stop along the way to replenish her ship's onboard oxygen tanks, which were only rated for three days at the very most.

Making sure that his seat belt was sufficiently tightened, Markheim confirmed the travel data and braced himself as his frigate lurched forward and activated its warpdrive. He despised the fact that the three-day voyage would keep him out of work as a bounty hunter until he landed, but the payout for the bounty on Fox McCloud would more than make up for it. A cruel smile crept onto his lips at the thought of the sizeable fortune that would be his in less than a week.

"_Say your prayers, Fox; 'cause you haven't got much longer to live."_

* * *

Meanwhile on Corneria, Fox had just finished dressing himself and walking out of the guest bedroom where Peppy had allowed him to sleep the night before. Unfortunately, sleep had not been kind to him at all. The knowledge that he was being hunted continually plagued his mind, causing him to feel a form of fear he had not been subjected to in quite some time. Usually, he was the one doing the hunting; but now, the tables had been turned completely. Someone had placed an enormous bounty on his head, causing a stir within the bounty hunting community. General Peppy and his associates were doing everything in their power to keep an eye out for any bounty hunters on Corneria, but it was inevitable that a few would manage to escape detection and slip through.

For the first time since he could remember, he felt helpless and unable to defend himself. If only one individual was out to end his life, he could handle it; but as it was, dozens of merciless hunters were already on his trail, looking for clues to his location and going through every scrap of information they could find about him.

Rubbing his eyes after his sleep-deprived night, Fox entered Peppy's kitchen, where the aged rabbit was waiting for him with a cup of coffee in his hand. In front of him was the daily newspaper, which mentioned nothing about Fox's bounty, simply because Peppy had prohibited the media from broadcasting anything related to it in order to keep the situation under wraps as much as possible.

"You don't look too well, Fox," Peppy murmured, looking up from his newspaper.

"That's because I'm not," Fox groused in reply. In addition to the undesirable feeling that accompanied his lack of sleep, he had woken up with a sore, painful feeling in his right arm. He attributed it to his workout with Bill from the night before, but it was more painful than it should have been. However, just like before, he wrote it off as an inconsequential ache that could be overlooked with the help of ibuprofen.

While he dug through Peppy's medicine cabinet and removed a small case of pain relievers, Peppy turned to him and soberly said, "You need to take everything out of your apartment today. I'm going to set you up with a new one in my name. Hopefully, that'll throw off the bounty hunters until we can find out who's responsible for this and take him down."

"Agreed," Fox replied, filling up a glass of water from the refrigerator and quaffing his pain medication.

Somewhat suspicious about Fox's need for painkillers, Peppy asked, "You're not getting back into action again, are you, Fox?"

"Well…" Fox paused and quickly glanced at the ceiling before continuing, "Someone asked me to do them a favor last week, and I took him up on it."

"I don't know about that, Fox," Peppy gravely replied. "I don't want something to happen to you. You're the only friend I have that I can talk to. Falco's too busy with Katt, Slippy's always working on some new experimental weapon, and Krystal…"

"…I know, Peppy," Fox cut in, preventing Peppy from doing further damage to his psyche. "It's my fault for what happened to her. If I hadn't been so concerned about her safety, she'd still be here. I just know it." Clenching his teeth in frustration, he muttered, "I should have believed her when she said that she could protect herself."

Trying to reason with Fox, Peppy replied, "Fox, what's done is done. She's not going to come back. It's best if you just move on."

Peppy had attempted to speak wisdom into Fox's life, but he wanted to hear none of it. Unhappily, he turned away from Peppy and looked at the ground in front of his feet as a tear welled up in his eye.

"_I wish she would come back… I'd apologize for everything. I'd tell her what an idiot I was for doubting her. And I'd ask her if she'd forgive me for it."_ Still forlornly gazing at the hardwood floor, Fox whispered, "I miss you, Krystal. I'm sorry for what I did to you."

"Is something wrong, Fox?" Peppy asked.

With his back still turned to Peppy, Fox insincerely replied, "No, Peppy, I'm fine."

"_I'm not fine. Letting her go was the biggest mistake of my life—and I would do anything to have her back."_

With a look of unmitigated disappointment on his face, Fox turned around to face the General and quietly said, "I'll see you later, Peppy."

"Where are you going, Fox?"

"I don't know yet," he replied. "I just need some time to myself, that's all."

With that, Fox opened the door that led to the garage and quietly closed it behind him before climbing into his car and starting the engine. As Peppy looked out the nearest window and watched him drive away, he could feel the pain that Fox was experiencing. No matter how many times he had told his friend that Krystal was nothing more than a memory, Fox could never find the will to give up hope that she would be willing to accept him again. He could relate to his loss. The death of his wife Vivian still haunted him to that day, and her passing had left a void inside of him that continued to grow larger the longer he lived. He knew what it was like to lose the most important thing in his life. So did Fox.

The same way that Vivian was irreplaceable to Peppy, Krystal was irreplaceable to him. No one would ever be able to take her place or love him the same way that she had.


	4. Chapter 4: One Last Chance

**Chapter 4: One Last Chance**

_Four days later…_

Cardboard boxes of various sizes were strewn about Fox's new apartment, located in a high-rise building in the heart of downtown Corneria City. The mercenary's wardrobe had not yet been transferred to his closet. As it was, his clothes were neatly folded on the carpeted floor, waiting for their owner to put them away. Falco had joined Fox to help him complete the final part of his move into his new space at Peppy's behest, even though it was not necessary for him to do so. Fox figured that his old friend had done this in order to provide him with some level of protection against any bounty hunters that may have wished to bring his life to an end.

"You've got a lot of stuff, Foxie," Falco wearily commented, dropping a box to the floor and looking towards Fox, who was cutting open a large box that contained the various medals and awards he had received while with Star Fox.

"I guess so, Falco," Fox replied, "I just don't want to get rid of any of it."

"I understand, Fox," said Falco, attempting to sympathize with his former leader despite the fact that he failed to understand Fox's sentimental attachment to the objects from his past.

"Bull, Falco. I know you couldn't care less about any of it. It was all about the action for you," Fox retorted.

Falco looked down at the small box he had just dropped and shook his head. "Yeah, whatever, Fox. You're right—sue me."

Carefully navigating the sea of boxes and clothes that lay on the floor, he walked over to the window and gazed out at the breathtaking Cornerian skyline as Solar began to sink into the horizon. "Nice place you got here. Peppy sure did you a favor this time," he lightheartedly commented.

Fox gave no reply, causing Falco to turn around out of frustration and march up to his friend, who was sitting on his bed, looking at a framed picture of him and Krystal that was taken after the end of the Aparoid War.

"What's the matter, Fox? Oh…"

Upon noticing the picture, the avian became eerily silent and turned his back to Fox, who looked like he was about to burst into tears. His mind and heart were both crying out to Krystal, wanting so badly for her to find a way back into his life just so that he could apologize for what he had so foolishly done to her five years ago.

"_Please, Krystal, just give me one more chance."_

He continued to look at the portrait, oblivious to the tears that were falling onto its laminated glass surface. The look in Krystal's beautiful aquamarine-colored eyes brought him all the way back to the first time he had seen her open them. That time had been more than seven years ago, during the last fifteen minutes of his Saurian campaign when he had saved her from falling through the hole in the Krazoa Palace's roof to what would have been her death. Almost beyond belief, she had managed to hold onto her staff, which Fox held out to her in an attempt to preserve her existence and prevent her from falling.

After she had been pulled to the solid, stony ground on the rain-soaked roof of the Krazoa Palace, Fox and Krystal's eyes met for the first time. Even after seven years, Fox vividly remembered thinking, "_Her eyes are even more beautiful than the rest of her—and that's saying something._" He felt as though he was being pulled in by her indescribably beautiful gaze alone. Her soft, lovely eyes were like two pools of radiant water that he fervently desired to dive into. They complimented her soft, blue fur; perfectly balancing the colors of her downy sapphire pelt like the brushstroke of a master artist.

Both of them continued to melt into each other's eyes until Krystal suddenly yelled, "Give me that!" and wrenched her staff from Fox's paws before vainly attacking Andross—who was posing as the Krazoa god—with her weapon's fire blaster, causing no damage whatsoever. Fox couldn't believe just how stubborn she was. Krystal knew that her attacks were useless against the enormous head, but she still continued to bombard it, using her intense hatred for Andross to spur her on while Fox unbelievingly shook his head and sprinted towards his Arwing, which actually _would_ stand a decent chance of taking down the deranged ape.

Back in his room in Corneria City, Fox took one last look at the picture of him and Krystal before wiping the tears from his eyes and placing the picture back into the box where he had found it.

"You okay, Fox?" Falco worriedly asked, looking over his shoulder at the vulpine.

Quietly, Fox replied, "Yeah, Falco. I'm fine. I just have to learn to let her go."

"You know, Fara Phoenix would love to date you," Falco suggested, "I could set you up…"

"…No thanks, Falco. I need a bit more time."

Walking towards Fox and standing in front of him with his hands at his sides, Falco softly told his friend, "Fox, buddy—Krystal's gone. She's not going to come back."

Trying desperately to hold back the tears, Fox lowered his head to his chest and quietly said, "…And that's why I can't get over her. If I had just one more chance, I'd apologize for everything I ever did to her. Even if she refused to forgive me, I'd be able to move on; but right now, I just have a bunch of regrets on my chest. I'm broken—and I can't do anything about it unless I can find a way to talk to her again."

Falco found himself unable to provide a response to Fox's statement. Even though he and Katt had recently been married, he had never felt as attached to anything or anyone in the way that Fox did to Krystal. Frowning noticeably, he mumbled, "I guess I'll get going, then. Do you want to meet me and Katt later?"

"No thanks, Falco," Fox quietly replied, rising to his feet and suddenly yelping in pain from a stabbing sensation that pulsated through his right arm.

"Are you alright, Fox?" Falco nervously asked, noticing his friend's uncharacteristic behavior.

"Yeah, I'm… OUCH!" Another needle-like sensation shot through his arm, almost bringing pain-induced tears to his eyes. Reeling in pain, he fell to his knees and collapsed on the floor in a ball.

"Fox!"

The avian quickly knelt beside Fox and placed his left hand on his friend's back, frantically attempting to deduce what exactly was ailing his former leader. "Fox, I know you're not alright. What's going on here, pal?"

Obviously in extreme pain, Fox tilted his head to the side and directed his eyes to meet Falco's while exhuming several quick, pained breaths of air. "I don't know, Falco," he gasped, "It's been getting worse since last week." With his free hand, he pulled up his right shirt sleeve, revealing the incision that he had received during a run-in on his last job as a mercenary. The knife-inflicted cut had bled profusely from the onset of his injury; but like most wounds, it seemed to heal with time. However, a week after the accident, the color around the incision began to change to a dark purple hue. Now, a good portion of the area near his deltoid muscle was stained with the same disturbing shade of purple.

Falco stared aghast at the wound, which Fox had repeatedly brushed off as being "just a scratch." Now, though, there was no denying that it was far more serious than he had initially thought. With fear evident in his voice, Falco coldly said, "Fox, you need to see a doctor—now."

"I know, Falco," he whimpered, weakly attempting to sit up while doing his best to ignore the pain that continued to shoot through his arm like a dagger.

"Then let's go, Fox. I'll drive."

"Okay," Fox muttered, forcing himself to his feet while clutching his right arm. Fortunately, the pain seemed to have subsided slightly. It was still present, but it was nowhere near as severe as it had been a minute ago. Concerned that the wound might have been far more grievous than he had first imagined, he worriedly followed Falco out of his new apartment to the elevator area, where the avian pressed the down arrow and waited for the elevator to arrive. The elevator lazily ascended the building until it reached the top floor, where Fox and Falco were waiting.

Anxiously, both of them entered the elevator, which differed from most others of its kind in that it had two sliding doors rather than one. The doors soon closed before the elevator began its lackadaisical descent to the ground level with an apathetic lack of speed that was nearly insulting. However, it was possible that Fox and Falco's concern about the former's injury was causing everything to seem as if it was moving more slowly than usual.

When the elevator had finally reached the ground floor and opened its doors, Fox and Falco quickly walked to the skyscraper's parking deck, where Falco's vehicle was located. Three flights of concrete stairs brought the duo up to the fourth level of the heavily-occupied parking area. Fox continued to clutch at his arm while they made their way to Falco's blue coupé that was parked between two larger SUVs. Out of courtesy, the avian remotely unlocked his car and opened the passenger side door for Fox, allowing him to enter the vehicle without having to worry about the door opening too far and hitting the luxury SUV that was parked in the adjacent spot.

Before starting the engine, Falco asked his friend, "Is it any better?"

"A little bit," Fox replied, still favoring his arm.

Deeply concerned about Fox's well-being, Falco ignited his vehicle's powerful engine and rapidly shoved the manual gearbox into reverse without looking behind him to make sure that he would not hit anyone that happened to be in the way. Fortunately, he received no interference. After descending the parking deck at a decidedly unsafe speed, Falco presented his credit card to the parking deck's ticketing machine in order to pay for the parking fee that he had accrued while he had been helping Fox move into his new apartment. The move had taken longer than expected, causing the total price for his parking to rise to an uncomfortable level. However, the exorbitant price of the parking ticket was the least of his concerns at the moment. The instant that the black and yellow gate in front of the parking deck's automated toll booth lifted, Falco gunned the throttle and beat a path towards the nearest hospital as quickly as he possibly could.

* * *

It had been a long and arduous journey back to the system she had lived in following the destruction of her homeworld, but after four days of nearly ceaseless space travel inside the cockpit of her small _Cloud Runner_ fighter, Kursed finally re-entered the Lylat System with the intention of finding Fox and forgiving him for his mistakes, in addition to apologizing for abandoning him and defecting to Star Wolf.

After she had stopped on a backwater planet along the way to replenish her ship's drained oxygen tanks, Kursed injected herself with a depressant serum, which put her into an almost comatose state for the final two days of her voyage to Lylat until she awakened on the outskirts of the system she had once known as her home.

The medication still had not completely filtered out of her bloodstream, leaving her with a sensation of dizziness along with a mild case of nausea. However, it was far from a cause for concern, as it would still be several more hours until her ship's autopilot brought her into Cornerian orbit. By then, the effects of the sleep-inducing serum would have completely worn off, allowing her to easily land her _Cloud Runner_. She shuddered slightly in the blue-trimmed cockpit, knowing that Cornerian air and space traffic controllers would recognize her ship as one that formerly belonged to Star Fox; and along with it, her. The name 'Kursed' may have struck fear into the hearts of the people in the distant star system she had fled to; but here in Lylat, she would still be known as Krystal. Despite her modified appearance—with her longer hair, harsher facial features, and an unshakeable confidence that exuded itself from every inch of her figure—she would still be recognizable as the sweet-hearted, loving vixen from Cerinia.

And it sickened her to think about that.

Krystal was someone she had abandoned long ago. Her innocence was not something that could endure the savage tests and trials of bounty hunting; and over time, the pure heart of Krystal was slowly eclipsed by the dark, seared conscience of Kursed. There was no turning back for her at this point—not after what she had done. She could only hope that Fox would be willing to accept her for who she was, because Krystal had long since died.

She promised herself that she would be as kind to Fox as she possibly could if she was able to find him, even though there was no way that she would come across the same way to him as she had in the past. All that she could hope for was Fox's forgiveness and acceptance of her new persona, whether he liked it or not. He would still probably call her 'Krystal'; but in reality, the Krystal he had known no longer existed. He would have to learn the painful reality regarding her sooner or later.

The vixen used the remaining two hours of her automated flight to ponder her future and prepare herself for what would happen once she entered Corneria's atmosphere. Because her criminal activities had never extended to the Lylat System, Cornerian authorities would allow her to land without presenting her with any trouble. The vixen exhaled a grateful breath knowing that in all likelihood, nothing would impede her from tracking down Fox and finally absolving herself from her past mistakes.

Slowly, the effects of the depressants she had injected wore off, leaving her with a clear mind as Corneria began to come into view. There was no reason for her to be afraid; but for reasons unbeknownst to her, she began to tremble in fear and apprehension. Kursed knew that there was nothing to be afraid of; but even though she scorned herself for fearing her arrival on the planet, she still felt the pangs of panic tugging at her heart.

Forcefully holding back her fears in the most effective way that she could, she began her entry to Corneria's atmosphere, watching as the red-hot flames of the ionosphere began to dance across her _Cloud Runner_'s bow and reinforced glass canopy. She had entered the planet's atmosphere literally hundreds of times before, but it felt different this time. Perhaps it was because it would be the last time she would ever visit Corneria. The time was running out for her; and even though she refused to admit it, her life-force was slowly being depleted by the effects of the toxins that were gradually killing her. She would only have three days at the very most to find Fox before it would be too late.

Shortly after breaking through to the upper atmosphere far above Corneria City, the voice of a Cornerian space transit controller came through her ship's onboard speakers, causing the vixen to fearfully shudder. "We have confirmed your location, _Cloud Runner_. Proceed to Hangar 5F for docking and maintenance."

Breathing heavily, Kursed weakly and informally replied, "Okay." Following the holographic markers placed on her ship's dash interface by the space traffic controllers, she dropped altitude over the city until the lively Cornerian spaceport came into view. Ships of every shape and size lay scattered about the tarmac, while several other vessels could be seen taking off and landing. Everything from personal transport ships to small military battleships was visible from the air above the hangar area on the warm, autumn day.

Kursed recalled the first day she had seen the magnificent spaceport. Shortly after Fox had rescued her on Sauria, he and the rest of the Star Fox team docked the _Great Fox _in an orbiting dry-dock for repairs and upgrades, which they were now able to afford after successfully alleviating the disaster on Sauria. Fox had taken a small transport ship down to the surface of the planet with only Krystal as a passenger; and while Falco assumed that he had done this to hit on the enigmatic blue vixen he had just met, Fox had actually insisted on flying alone with Krystal because he was the only one that she felt she could trust.

Krystal remembered a feeling of shock and bewilderment at the sight of the sprawling metropolis of Corneria City. Nothing even remotely similar had existed on Cerinia. The limited technology her people possessed could not compare to the advancements of the Lylatians. That very day, she had purchased her first 'civilized' clothes from a Cornerian outlet mall (courtesy of Fox) and had been registered for a Cornerian citizenship, even though she barely spoke the Lylatian tongue.

Throughout her entire first day on Corneria, she felt terrified about being the center of attention wherever she went. Very few blue foxes existed outside of Cerinia; and the skimpy attire she wore before she had been able to acquire more 'presentable' clothing did nothing to help her remain unnoticed. However, no matter how frightened or worried she became, Fox's confident demeanor never departed from him. From day one, Krystal began to build a connection with him that would only grow stronger until he foolishly severed it in the name of her own safety.

Kursed's trail of memories brought her back to the present just as the roof of hangar 5F slid open, allowing her to lower her _Cloud Runner _into the empty building. For the moment, she was alone inside the structure; but she knew that within seconds, spaceport workers would begin to enter the hangar to check her craft into their system and to collect her information. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for what she knew had to be said. There was no way around it. They would ask her for her name for identification purposes, and she would have no choice but to utter the name 'Krystal.'

The vixen closed her eyes and repeatedly inhaled and exhaled. When she opened her eyes again, she found that the darkened hangar's bright fluorescent tube lighting had been powered on and was now brilliantly illuminating the room. Her telepathy began to alert her to the presence of two people behind the nearest door, which was located at the top of a metallic mesh staircase roughly fifty feet to her left. Her heart rate began to increase as the two spacecraft inspectors neared the door leading from the spaceport's control rooms to hangar 5F. This was it.

Two seconds later, the gray door to the hangar swung open. The two canine inspectors nonchalantly entered the building where Kursed had landed her _Cloud Runner _and immediately began to heavily scrutinize the fighter. Kursed could not physically hear what the two officials were saying from behind the thick glass of her fighter's canopy, but her telepathy alerted her to every one of their words.

"_This can't be right," _said the taller of the two inspectors. "_Only one of these was ever made, correct?"_

"_That's right," _the second inspector replied. _"Modified Arwing II, called the _Cloud Runner. _Fox McCloud had it built for his girlfriend at the time._"

"_But it's the wrong color. The _Cloud Runner _was blue and white, not purple."_

"_Yes, but she might have repainted it,"_ the tall inspector suggested.

"_Maybe," _the shorter of the two replied, albeit with some resignation. "_What happened to her, anyway?"_

"_I don't really know, Collins," _the tall inspector answered. "_Some say she was killed. Some say that she killed herself_. _And some say that she left Lylat because she couldn't forgive herself for what she did to Fox and his team."_

Upon hearing his words in her mind, Kursed found herself unable to hold back the tears which began to pour out of her eyes. The vixen angrily wiped the salty droplets away with her blue paws, but she was unable to put an end to the deluge. "_What's wrong with me?"_ she screamed internally. "_I left it all behind! I started over! I'm not the same person anymore! So why can't I stop crying?"_

Her internal struggle was suddenly brought to an abrupt end when she noticed the taller of the two canines motioning for her to open her ship's cockpit and climb out. Wringing her eyes until they had been dried of the freshly-shed tears, Kursed slowly pulled the _Cloud Runner_'s canopy release lever, causing the glass to rise with a faint hiss.

As she climbed out of the small fighter, she felt completely humiliated, almost as if she had been stripped naked for the world to see. She could feel the two inspectors' stunned thoughts that manifested themselves in two sharp gasps when they realized that Krystal had indeed returned. Delicately lowering herself off of her fighter's wings to the concrete floor of the hangar, Kursed weakly stared down the two canines with her icy aquamarine eyes that normally would have stricken them with a spine-chilling sense of fear and respect. Today, though, no such thing occurred. All that the two canines saw was a miserable, broken vixen with tear-stained eyes, silently pleading for help.

In a fatherly tone of voice, the tall inspector softly asked, "Is something wrong?"

"N…no… I'm fine," Kursed whimpered, although it was more than obvious that she was far from 'fine.'

"What name should I register your ship under, ma'am?" the shorter canine asked, attempting to remain as respectful as possible to the former member of Star Fox.

Kursed hesitated and lowered her head to her chest, causing her long, dark purple hair to fall over her eyes. Her ears drooped, and her tail hung limply from her backside in shame. It took everything inside of her to utter the name she had long since erased and consigned to the blackest depths of her mind, but she forced herself to say it. "K…Krystal. Just Krystal," she feebly muttered, so quietly that it was barely audible.

"Thank you, Krystal," said the shorter inspector, writing her name on his clipboard and then wedging his pen in the space between his ear and his head. "We'll take care of your ship for you. It's always a pleasure working with you." He paused and then finished, "We're glad to see you again, Krystal."

"Thank you," the vixen weakly replied as a tear began to form in her eye. After the two inspectors had exited the hangar, Kursed dropped to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably. She had believed that the people of Lylat as a whole hated and despised her, but she had never thought about the many Lylatians that still held a place for her in their hearts, no matter what she had done to her former team. The words of the short inspector had broken through a wall within her mind, causing a flood of emotions to pour out.

"_We're glad to see you again, Krystal."_

She couldn't believe that anyone would be willing to forgive her for what she'd done, but the spaceport worker had done just that. Still reeling in shock, Kursed forced herself to stand up and focus her mind on the only thing she had left to do—to find Fox. She was determined to track him down even if it killed her, because she knew that she would be dead within the next 72 hours regardless. The symptoms of her poisoning had slowly begun to return; and if the doctor she had seen at the onset of her sickness was correct, the disease was beginning to enter its terminal phase.

After exiting the hangar, Kursed boarded a spaceport shuttle which took her into the heart of Corneria City, where her search for Fox began. After having been absent from the capital of Lylat for five years, she had forgotten how truly enormous the city was. The odds of finding one man out of the ten million residents of the Lylatian capital were beyond abysmal. Still, she knew that she had no choice but to try. As night fell on Corneria City, Kursed began her search for Fox, starting by questioning restaurant and pub owners for any clues as to Fox's whereabouts. Sadly for her, very few of them knew anything about Fox's location other than that he _was_ living somewhere in the city limits.

The vixen wandered the all-too-familiar streets of the metropolis until she was too exhausted to continue. With her strength quickly ebbing away, she found herself forced to take up lodging in a large downtown hotel that bordered the busiest avenue in downtown Corneria City. Despite her tiredness, she slept terribly that night. Thoughts about Fox and her fears related to being unable to find him plagued her dreams and frightened her into waking up on more than three occasions throughout the night. However, at around 3:00 A.M., the vixen finally fell into a deep sleep and rested peacefully.

The next morning, Kursed awakened and found every movement to be much more difficult than it had been the day before. She knew what it meant—it meant that her sickness was beginning to wrap its jaws around her in preparation for the grim exit of her existence. The rapid advances of her illness caused her to become even more fearful that she would be unable to locate Fox, even though Fox himself wanted nothing more than to find her.

Feeling pain in every footstep, Kursed left the hotel where she had stayed the night and once again ventured out into Corneria City to continue her unwavering search for Fox McCloud. Regrettably for her, the morning hours proved every bit as unfruitful as those from the night before. Despite her valiant efforts, she found herself unable to unearth any new details on Fox's location. From all accounts, it seemed that he had gone into hiding or desired to keep himself out of the public eye as much as possible.

Due to her keen interest in tracking down Fox, some of the people she questioned went as far as to ask if she was a bounty hunter. Kursed was unaware of the sizeable bounty that had been placed on Fox, but her telepathic intuition warned her to lie about her occupation, even though she had done nothing to break the law on Corneria or in the Lylat System, for that matter. At first, the suspicious responses to her questions caused her no small amount of confusion; but after she had been repeatedly questioned about her motives for attempting to find Star Fox's former leader, she began to become worried that something else was at play.

Her suspicions were shortly confirmed. Thirty minutes after noon, Kursed stepped into a small downtown diner where she intended to purchase a small lunch for herself. She didn't feel particularly hungry due to her increasingly-worrying illness, but she knew that it would be to her advantage to eat something. Leaving the tables and booths to the couples and groups, she slid onto one of the red-padded stools in front of the restaurant's bar and loudly slapped the countertop to attract the attention of the diner's manager, who had been forced to take over for one of his employees when he had called in sick that morning.

"Okay! I'm coming! Hold on!" he grunted, shuffling across the freshly-mopped tile floor while trying to avoid slipping and falling on his posterior. The scruffy-looking sheepdog approached Kursed and picked up a nearby pen to take her order.

"What'll you be having, sweetheart?" he jovially asked, leaning on the bar in front of Kursed.

The vixen felt unsure how to react to the manager's kind-hearted question. After adopting the lifestyle of Kursed the bounty huntress, she had developed the tendency to lash out at people who called her by endearing names such as 'sweetheart' or 'hon'. However, with all that she had been through in the last few days, she began to appreciate the Cornerians' hospitality. Slowly, the boundaries between her and the outside world began to come crashing down. It felt surprisingly good for her to let go of her angst and allow it to die off.

"I'll have the BLT," she said in reply to the sheepdog's question.

"It'll be right out," the manager replied, scratching down the vixen's order with his pen. "By the way—do I know you?"

"Maybe," Kursed mumbled, feeling guilty for her past actions once again. "I've been around here once or twice."

"What brings ya back here, then?"

Kursed carefully pondered her answer, seeing as she didn't want to be scrutinized the way that she had before. Nervously, she ran her fingers through her long, purple hair and answered, "I'm looking for a man named Fox McCloud. Have you seen him?"

"Fox? Oh no," he scoffed, shaking his head and causing his scraggly facial hair to flop around. "You know, someone put a damn near unbelievable mark on his head earlier this week. 15 million! I can't even believe it! Who would do something like that to a hero like Fox?"

"I don't know," Kursed replied while trying to maintain her composure, even though her blood was boiling at the revelation that Fox—_her _Fox—was being targeted. Suddenly, an icy blast shot through her veins, causing her fur to stand on end. "_Markheim,"_ she fearfully thought. "_He'll be all over him. Fox won't stand a chance."_

For the remainder of her lunch, anyone who looked Kursed's way would have thought that she had seen a ghost. The skin under her fur was deathly white, and her pupils were dilated out of fear for Fox's life. After eating her sandwich and finding herself unable to enjoy any of it, she paid for her meal and left the diner with her resolve hardened. She had to find Fox before Markheim did—no matter the cost.

Determined to locate Fox, she once again scoured the downtown areas of Corneria City, only stopping for the most essential of tasks. Everything that she had been told indicated to her that Fox was still living in the city, even though his precise location had been concealed for his own protection. Throughout the remainder of her second day of searching for Fox, the only tangible clue that she found was the tip of a bar owner who recalled seeing Fox visit his pub along with Falco and Katt. However, it had been more than a week since then.

Once again, Kursed finished the day with disappointment, having been unable to find Fox in the teeming downtown area of the metropolis. Her only consolation was that several Cornerian civilians had reached out to her and personally thanked her for returning to the planet, even though none of them were able to point her in the direction of Fox. It gave her a sense of peace knowing that even though she had done so much to deserve their disrespect, many of them still loved her the same way they had before.

With the day gone, Kursed returned to her hotel room and quickly fell asleep. Unlike the night before, her sheer exhaustion overwhelmed any fears or worries about being unable to find Fox; and she slept better than she had in quite some time. The next morning, she awoke with a cry of pain the instant that she took her first breath. She felt pitiably weak, and her muscles felt as if they had been set in stone. In that moment, a sensation of black fear swept through her mind at the realization that she most likely had less than a full day left to live.

It took every ounce of her strength to climb out of bed and dress herself in preparation for her final attempt to track down the former leader of Star Fox. Every movement for her became excruciatingly difficult as her body began to shut down. Still, she willed herself to continue searching, knowing that Fox was in the city somewhere. From morning until night, she doggedly searched every place of business in the downtown area for hints and tips about Fox's location. Sadly, just like the two previous days, she only received responses such as "I saw him around here last week," and "I've seen him before, but not for a while."

Time was running out.

* * *

Elsewhere in downtown Corneria City, Fox could be found walking alongside the metropolis's largest avenue. He had covered himself with a hooded jacket, which he placed over his head to prevent any potential killers from identifying him. Not that it mattered. The doctor's prognosis from two days ago had been anything but promising. After learning about the cruel, unfair eventuality of his circumstances, Fox had bidden Falco farewell and watched him drive back to his house, where Katt was doubtlessly waiting for him.

As he crossed a side street, he sighed and faintly shook his head, cursing himself for not addressing his wound sooner. "_If I had gone four days ago, I would be fine right now," _he groused, violently kicking a loose piece of asphalt that had been dislodged from the pavement that he was crossing. The physician he and Falco had visited had prescribed a powerful analgesic for Fox's ailment; but for all intents and purposes, it would do nothing other than to ease the pain somewhat.

With the daylight fading, Fox thought about Krystal and how badly he wished to see her again. In his darkest hour, the one person he never wanted to be without was gone, never to return again. He hated himself for what he had done five years ago.

"_If I had never forced her off the team, none of this would have ever happened—and I'm the only one to blame for it."_

Without saying a word, he continued to walk down the sidewalk until his footsteps brought him to the dimly-lit entry to Flanagan's Pub, a moderately-successful establishment in the middle of downtown Corneria. Wearily, he opened the building's door and walked up to the bar, where he ordered two drinks—one for him, and one for Krystal. With or without her, he was determined to make things right. The Alsatian bartender behind the counter quickly filled the twin glasses and handed them to Fox, who mumbled his thanks and morosely walked to the back right corner of the room, where an empty wooden table and two matching chairs could be found.

Sliding out the chair closest to the back corner, he sat down and set his drinking glasses on the table's surface. Taking a deep breath, be began to quietly speak.

"Krystal, I'm so sorry…_"_

* * *

With the day almost over, Kursed watched as Solar dipped beneath the horizon and vanished from sight. Her illness had only worsened as the day went on, causing her to struggle with even simple tasks such as walking and kneeling. With her strength almost completely gone, she slowly trudged towards a dimly-lit bar on the side of the street she was walking alongside. Feeling almost as weak as she had when she had first contracted her disease, she forced open the establishment's heavy wooden door and stepped inside.

The pub was minimally occupied in the early hours of the night, even though the streets outside were teeming with Cornerian citizens. The lights were dimmed inside the structure, and only fifteen people could be found in the small, moderately well-appointed pub. The bartender seemed to be very uninterested in his line of work, which amounted to cleaning drinking glasses in the absence of a steady flow of customers. Feeling that one last drink would do her well before she died, she began to approach the bar with the intention of asking the bartender for a strong drink.

However, as she walked up to the bar, she quickly glanced to her right and noticed a hooded vulpine figure mumbling incoherently to his drink glass in the back right corner of the pub. Strangely, he had placed two glasses on the wooden table at which he sat—one for him, and one for someone he wished was there. Over the years, Kursed had learned to ignore her softer, emotional side; but with her life nearly gone, she allowed her kinder attributes to get the better of her. Slowly and quietly, she walked to the back of the restaurant towards the table where the gray-cloaked vulpine sat, uttering a soliloquy to the drink glass across the table from him.

"_I'm sorry—I don't know what I was thinking. I'm such an idiot for forcing you off the team. My life hasn't been the same since you left, and it's completely my fault. Will you forgive me?"_

Taking a deep breath, Kursed walked up to the table and sat down in the chair across from him. A pair of tears dripped down her face as she quietly whispered, "Yes, Fox."

Stunned and astounded, the hooded vulpine looked up from the table into the familiar sea-green eyes of Krystal. Her entire appearance had changed since the last time he had seen her, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the person seated across from him at the grimy, wooden table was none other than his former friend and teammate.

"K…Krystal?" he stammered, almost believing that he was seeing a ghost.

"Yes, Fox—I'm here," she weakly replied.

Still barely believing his eyes, Fox reached out his hands and fondled Krystal's soft digits, which she had placed on the table near the glass that Fox had bought for her, even though he had never imagined that she would ever come back to him. The soft, blue fur on her hands was just as velvety as he remembered it being, and the warmth of her touch brought back countless memories of times spent with her in the past. Fox found himself unable to say anything to his long-lost friend and love, who understandingly gazed at him with sad eyes while softly stroking his arm. In his absence of words, he began to cry, releasing his emotions in a salty downpour while Krystal continued to gently caress him.

"It's okay, Fox," Krystal quietly said. "I'm not going to leave you again."

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Fox looked up and weakly replied, "Thank you, Krystal. The only thing I wish I had is more time to share with you."

Initially, Krystal looked at him with a puzzled expression. Was it possible that he knew she was dying? She pondered the possibility of him somehow being aware of her illness, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that he was referring to himself—not her. Fearfully, she asked him, "What do you mean, Fox?"

"Krystal, I don't have much longer to live. I was diagnosed with a terminal infection two days ago."


	5. Chapter 5: Absolution

**Chapter 5: Absolution**

Six days of sadness, worry, and seemingly-unending disappointment had finally brought Kursed to this moment. Never had she expected it to end this way. Sitting before her in the dimly-lit interior of Flanagan's Pub was Fox McCloud, weak, broken, and dying from a lethal injury which he had received a week prior to his meeting with his former teammate and friend.

Kursed found herself unsure of how to react to the revelation that Fox was going to die. Part of her felt as if she was being torn to pieces by his anguish that was only exacerbated by her own weakening telepathic abilities. However, at the same time, another portion of her being felt a form of solace knowing that he would no longer have to suffer from his past mistakes. At the very least, he and Krystal would be together at the bitter end.

"What happened, Fox?" Kursed weakly asked, reaching out and wrapping her delicate paw around Fox's wrist.

With agony apparent in his voice, Fox replied with a question of his own. "Do you want the long or the short version?"

"Tell me everything, Fox."

"Okay," he feebly answered. After taking a sip of his lager, he cleared his throat and explained, "A week ago, an old friend of mine from the Flight Academy came to me and begged me to help him out. His wife had been abducted by some scumbag from one of the more notorious gangs in the city, and he offered me 25,000 credits if I could rescue her and bring her back unharmed. I couldn't say no to him—he was a friend," he scowled, clutching his head with his hands. "Long story short, I found where they were keeping his wife and managed to get a jump on them when they weren't ready. They fell like dominoes."

Fox reached down, took another quick sip of his drink, and continued his rhetoric. "I grabbed her and helped her to her feet. Poor thing—those bastards really messed her up. It made me want to shoot them all again after seeing all the horrible things that they must have put her through. After I made sure that she was going to be able to walk on her own, I checked to see if I had a clear path out of the alleys where the gang kept their 'shop', so to speak. After I was sure that the coast was clear, I started running back to where I had parked my car while holding her hand and yelling for her to hurry. When I was about fifty feet from the end of alleyway, I heard an angry voice and the sound of boots coming my way. I looked to the right, and I saw a guy with a machete charging me from another alley to my right. I knew what was coming, so I threw my friend's wife to the pavement and whipped out my pistol. I thought I had time to get a shot in before he got to me, but I miscalculated. I tried to dodge his machete, but he grazed my shoulder. The way that he hit me caused me to fall to the ground; but by the time he moved in for the kill, I had my gun ready. I dropped him immediately. My shoulder was bleeding badly, but I ignored it and helped my friend's wife to stand up before taking her back to my car and then driving to her house."

Fox paused and took a deep breath before explaining, "…Then I found out that the blade had been dipped in poison. The doctor I saw two days ago said that I was done for. He said that he might have been able to do something about it if I had come in sooner, but it didn't really start bothering me until it was already too late."

Kursed tearfully frowned and softly stroked his arm, vainly trying her best to lighten his mood. "I'm sorry that it had to end like this," she quietly murmured.

"I don't mind it," Fox faintly replied, trying to sound brave in spite of his life's quickly-approaching end. "After I forced you off the team, I was never able to forgive myself for what I did to you. The only thing I wanted after that was just one chance to see you again and apologize for everything."

Feeling her eyes beginning to fill with tears, Kursed whimpered, "Me too, Fox."

"What do you mean, Krystal?"

"I shouldn't have run away from you," she explained, wiping the tears from her eyes every few seconds and repeatedly sniffling. "I did it all just to get back at you—joining Star Wolf; leaving the Lylat System—I did all of it to make you feel miserable. I was so angry at you, even though I had no right to be. You were trying to protect me, and I should have recognized that. I should have known that you only had the best in mind for me, Fox. I'm so sorry—I wish I hadn't given up on you."

Soberly, Fox replied, "I don't blame you for any of it, Krystal. I had no right to make you leave. Star Fox was your family, and I took it away from you. Don't blame yourself. None of this would have happened if I hadn't been so selfish."

Kursed looked back at him with a pair of expressive, teary eyes and quietly said, "It's okay, Fox—that's behind us now." Taking a deep breath, the vixen added, "We only have a few more hours with each other. Let's make them count."

Fox returned her statement with a puzzled expression that showed her that he wasn't completely sure what she was attempting to suggest. Reluctantly, Kursed weakly explained, "Fox—I'm dying, too."

"What?!"

"Yes, Fox," she replied, letting her ears droop. "The doctor gave me a week to live—and that was six days ago. I don't feel like I can go on for much longer. My telepathy is getting weaker every second. My body is shutting down—I…I'm done for, Fox."

Fox bitterly frowned and lowered his gaze to the cracked, worn table. The one thought that continued to besiege his mind was the realization that all of this had begun with the worst decision of his life—and that same singular decision had brought it all to an end. Both he and Krystal were dying, slowly feeling their lives draining out of them as they grew weaker and weaker. However, in spite of their grim reality, both of them felt at peace with their circumstances. Their mistakes and missteps were behind them, and all that they had to look forward to now was a few more hours with each other. Fox and Krystal were reunited again, and neither of them could have asked for anything more—with the exception of more time to share with each other.

Repairing their old wounds and making amends for their mistakes would take time; but with only a matter of hours remaining until they passed on, Fox and Krystal felt hard-pressed to absolve themselves. Despite Fox's joy at seeing his long-lost love again, he was still hurt inside by what she had done to him. Krystal knew this is well, because she still felt the same way towards Fox. They had both forgiven each other, but they still bore the scars of the past on their hearts.

With Fox's drink nearly empty, the red vulpine slowly rose to his feet and offered Krystal his paw, helping her to stand up. The vixen gratefully thanked him; and with their drinks already paid for, Fox and Krystal slowly left the pub and walked out into the brisk Cornerian night. The time of year was mid-November; and even though the midday temperature had been a mild 62 degrees Fahrenheit, the temperature reading on the spire of the largest of all the Cornerian skyscrapers indicated that at the moment, it was a chilly 46 degrees.

Krystal's form-fitting flight suit was poorly suited to the weather, allowing far too much cold air to penetrate its layer of fabric and reach the vixen's fur and skin. Normally, her fur alone would have been more than enough to keep her warm; but with her illness in its advanced stage, the cold caused her to visibly shiver. Feeling sympathy for her, Fox unzipped his hooded jacket and lovingly helped Krystal put it on. The gray garment was a size too large for her, but it was warm—and that was all that mattered.

The Cerinian sighed, feeling the soft, faux fur lining of Fox's jacket brushing against the shell of her flight suit and insulating her from the cold outside. She looked over at Fox, concerned that the loss of his jacket would cause him to start shivering, just like she had done before Fox extended his kindness to her. However, the thick, long-sleeved, black shirt he had been wearing underneath his jacket was insulated enough to keep him sufficiently warm.

The two vulpines slowly walked down the city sidewalk until they entered the external boundaries of Corneria City's central park. Most of the area's deciduous trees still bore leaves, although many had already dropped to the vibrant, green grass below, coating the ground with a tapestry of red, orange, and yellow. Fox and Krystal's feet crunched over the fallen leaves as they wearily strode through the empty park. At this time of year, very few people chose to visit the quiet, wooded vista, as the temperature was simply too cold for most of them to enjoy the sights and sounds of the largely unspoiled natural area.

In the moonlit park, Fox and Krystal found themselves well and truly alone. Spotting a nearby bench positioned in front of a small, natural pond, Fox took Krystal's hand and helped her to sit down on the right side of the worn out, wooden seat that had been designed for two. The bench creaked as Fox slowly lowered himself into a seated position next to Krystal, who sighed deeply and relaxed her body, allowing her head to fall onto Fox's left shoulder.

He gently sifted through Krystal's long, dark purple hair, remembering the last time that he had ever done so. The silky strands were every bit as soft as he had remembered, in spite of Krystal's decision to alter the color of her naturally-beautiful cobalt hair in favor of a shade of midnight that would seem more imposing than her natural hair coloration. The vixen had previously wondered how Fox would take to her new look, but she had not expected him to treat her with almost the same level of fondness that he had before he kicked her off the Star Fox team.

To Krystal's relief, Fox seemed to like her new appearance. Yes, it was a departure from what he was used to seeing from her; but the only thing that truly mattered to Fox was that Krystal's being was still palpable to him. In his eyes, it wouldn't have mattered if she had undergone facial reconstruction surgery or dyed her fur white. All he wanted was to feel her as a person—not as something attractive to stare at. Not to say that she was lacking in any form of beauty, however. Her slightly more savage appearance was still very enticing to Fox in the way that her original form had been.

While Fox moved his paw downwards to grace the nape of her supple neck, Krystal quietly moaned and whispered, "Fox, may I ask you something? I've wanted to know this for a very long time."

"Sure," he softly replied, turning his head to look into Krystal's eyes. "What is it?"

The vixen feebly stuttered, unable to build up the courage to ask her former leader the question that had burned inside of her ever since she had left Lylat and taken up the assumed identity of Kursed. "I…I wanted to ask…"

"Krystal, don't be afraid—I won't take this the wrong way," Fox assured her, bringing his hand over to her shoulder and lightly squeezing it to Krystal's unspoken delight.

Taking a deep breath, Krystal finally presented her question. "Fox, before you kicked me off the team; were you going to…?" Finding herself lacking the courage to finish her question, the vixen let out a pitiable series of whelps and leaned forward on the park bench, staring at the leaves that lay scattered across the ground at her and Fox's feet.

Firmly, yet gently, Fox insisted, "Krystal, just tell me."

"Were you going to ask me to marry you?"

Taken aback by Krystal's question, Fox sighed and solemnly replied, "Yes, I was. I had everything in place. I had the ring picked out, I knew where I was going to propose to you, and I even figured out how to keep you from knowing about it." He paused and took a ragged breath that seemed to bring with it a sense of pain that warned him about his declining state of health. "Then," he continued, "We were on that mission to Macbeth. I know that you remember it, because I definitely do. You were almost killed that day. Slippy told me afterwards that your shields dropped to 3 percent during the skirmish. He also said that it was almost a miracle that you survived. After that, I couldn't risk having you in harm's way anymore. I felt that I had no choice but to let you go. I pushed my feelings for you aside and forced you to leave the team because I couldn't stand the thought of you being killed in front of my eyes."

"I thought it was all for your good, Krystal—but I should have known better."

"Oh, Fox..." Krystal sat up and locked eyes with the vulpine, noticing the regret and hurt that resided in his green lenses. It had been said that the eyes were the windows to the soul; and if that was true, Fox's internal being was deeply scarred as a result of his well-intended actions from five years ago. Feeling the unrest inside of him, Krystal wrapped her hands around Fox's back and pulled him towards herself. Then, with everything she had left inside of her, she passionately kissed him. Almost like a river, the stream of raw emotion flowing from the vixen completely inundated Fox, purging him of his regret and practically drowning him with a visceral flood of euphoria unmatched by anything he had experienced in quite some time.

Although Fox would have never know this, Krystal felt her own angst and regret slowly beginning to fade with every second that she and Fox spent with their lips locked together, renewing their long-lost passions for each other as the clock continued to mercilessly march on towards the bitter end, where there would be no turning back.

Both breathing heavily, Fox and Krystal slowly pulled away from each other as the distant Old Cornerian Clock Tower struck 11. The action of the large, rusted minute hand was soon followed by the sound of eleven musical chimes creating a haunting melody that could be faintly heard from the park where Fox and Krystal were seated. After settling down on Corneria after the destruction of Cerinia, the vixen had been fascinated by the old clock and had enjoyed listening to it ring; but that had been in days past. Now, the sounds emanating from the antique structure filled her with fear. Time was never something that could be literally felt, but the sound of the eleven successive rings gave the vixen a physical reminder that neither she nor Fox had much time left to live.

Clutching at Fox's wrist as if it was her lifeline, Krystal looked up into his eyes and softly asked, "Do you think we'll meet again after we die?"

Fox solemnly gazed off into the distance, over the lake that was positioned directly in the center of the park all the way out to the old clock tower looming in the distance. He felt the same feelings that his beloved vixen did. Just like Krystal, he feared the prospect of spending an eternity without the one person he truly felt at home with. Wrapping his arm around Krystal's shoulders and firmly squeezing her, Fox replied, "I don't know, Krystal. We won't really know until we get there. But one thing is for sure—if we meet each other again, I promise that I won't do anything to hurt you."

"Me too, Fox," Krystal whimpered, resting her head on Fox's chest and sighing deeply, shedding a tear in the process.

Stroking Krystal's silky purple hair, Fox murmured, "I never thought it would end like this. I thought I would die in battle, protecting the Lylat System from anyone who would want to harm it." Temporarily, he paused before speaking again. "…Then you came along. I thought I was incapable of love, but you proved me wrong. Everything changed when you took me up on my offer to join the team. I knew from the start that I loved you—and I hoped that you did too."

Krystal mumbled incoherently as she took her left hand and gently played with the white tip of Fox's bushy tail, causing his face to break out into a terse smile. "Fox, I always knew that you were someone special," she said, "It was everything I could do to keep from tripping over my own feet whenever you'd walk past me." Her voice seemed to become drenched with sorrow as she explained, "After I left the Lylat System, I promised myself that I'd never love anyone again. No one could ever take your place—you meant that much to me, Fox. I just wanted you to know that."

"Thank you, Krystal," Fox comfortingly replied while brushing the underside of her eye, causing her to blink out of reflex. Feeling weaker than she ever had before, the vixen quietly moaned, turned to look at Fox, and said, "I'm ready to go whenever you are."

At first, Fox failed to fully comprehend what she had said to him; but he quickly realized that she was suggesting that he take her back to his apartment, where they could spend their final minutes together inside the warm confines of Fox's rented space. After slowly standing up and brushing off his pants, Fox extended his hand and helped Krystal to her feet. Slowly and with a great amount of effort, the two vulpines made their way back into the heart of downtown Corneria, where they hailed a cab that took them to the front doors of the skyscraper where Fox's apartment was located. To Krystal's surprise, it was less than a mile from the hotel where she had been staying.

With their collective strength reaching its nadir, Fox and Krystal feebly shuffled onto the building's elevator and rode it all the way to the top of the building. As the elevator door slid open, the two locked hands and began to walk down the hallway that led to the last room on the right; both knowing that their respective ailments were quickly making advances on their lives. After digging through his pants pockets for several seconds, Fox looked over at Krystal—teary-eyed and sorrowful, yet somehow content at the same time.

"It's going to be okay, Krystal," Fox quietly whispered as he inserted his room key into the door slot. The red light next to the card slot turned to green, unlocking the door and allowing Fox and Krystal to access the room. Fox's apartment was still highly disorganized, with most of the cardboard moving boxes still scattered across the floor along with Fox's clothes, which had yet to be hung up or put away.

After wiggling out of her boots and taking off Fox's coat, Krystal navigated around the many obstacles in the room until she came upon a large, opened box full of old pictures and memorabilia. Curious as to what it contained, the vixen reached into the box and pulled up the framed portrait that Fox had found earlier that same day. Immediately, she felt tears spring to her eyes as she gazed at the picture of her and Fox together—the way it was meant to be. Noticing the vixen softly weeping, Fox came to her side and softly dug his fingers into Krystal's back, slowly working them into her shoulder blades and giving her a makeshift massage. Feeling a faint smile crawling across her lips, Krystal murmured, "Thank you, Fox."

Fox weakly replied, "It's all I could do for you, Krystal."

Having gazed at the picture long enough, Krystal placed it back in the box, stood up, and turned around to face Fox, who was standing next to his large, comfortable bed. Tugging at his shirt collar, she said, "You don't need this." Then, she slowly pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it to the floor next to a pile of clothing before unzipping her flight suit and pushing the form-fitting garment down to her bare feet.

Although he felt slightly uncomfortable with her actions, Fox followed the vixen's lead; and in less than a minute, both of them were clad only in their natural coats of fur. Ever since the first time Fox had seen Krystal like this, he had thought that her fur alone was more beautiful on her than any kind of clothing. The color of her pelt in and of itself seemed to reflect the peace and tranquility that Krystal had always radiated when she found herself around Fox. Any other color wouldn't have suited her near as well as the deep, vibrant shade of blue that her soft, downy fur coat possessed.

In spite of the natural temptation to run their eyes over each other's more 'secretive' areas, Fox and Krystal found themselves staring deeply into each other's eyes, drinking in the love and happiness that was so clearly evident in them. Preventing the weakening state of her body from stifling her bliss, Krystal pulled Fox's bedsheets forward and climbed into the bed with a pained smile on her face. Seconds later, Fox joined her and gently placed his arm around her neck, softly feathering her collar bone area.

Krystal reached out with her mind to absorb the healing, comforting thoughts that Fox was projecting; but in her weakness, she found that her telepathy was no longer functioning. A tremor of fear coursed through her dying body as she recalled what her parents had told her about the end of life for a Cerinian. While she was still alive, her beloved mother had explained to her, "_It's tragic, Krystal—before a Cerinian dies, their telepathy stops working. It's the most horrible feeling imaginable."_

She realized then and there exactly what her mother meant. Without her species' natural gift, she felt completely helpless, lost, and powerless. With her weakened heart anxiously pounding in her chest, she rolled onto her side and tightly wrapped her arms around Fox, begging for him to hold her so that she would be able to feel something—anything at all. Without hesitation, Fox firmly grasped her and held her tightly against his chest while tenderly exploring the contours of her back with his orange paw.

Fox's gentle, fervent embrace was like a warm blanket that touched her very soul and forced the stifling cold away from her. It had been far too long since she had felt this way. Locking limbs and huddling up together, Fox and Krystal gazed into each other's eyes, nearly losing themselves in the warmth that flowed out of them while both of their physical bodies began to grow numb. The vixen could feel her mate's pained, stressed breathing as his chest rose and fell, gradually becoming weaker and less noticeable as the seconds turned into minutes.

"So this is how it ends," she whispered, almost unaware the she had said anything at all.

Feeling the last of his strength leaving his body, Fox reached over with his hand and fondled Krystal's delicate muzzle for the last time. The breath from her small, black nose was warm, but very faint. For the moment, he treasured the sensation as he lay helplessly in bed, tangled up with his love beneath the sheets. Five years had come and gone since the greatest mistake of his life; but now, it was all over. All had been resolved—and that was all that he had asked for.

With one final breath, he whispered, "Goodbye, Krystal," and softly kissed her cheek.

"Goodbye, Fox," the vixen replied. "…And one last thing…"

"_Thank you—for everything."_

With five minutes left until midnight, Fox and Krystal reached out for each other, silently giving out their final regards before they passed on. Then, with their lives at the bitter end, they gazed into each other's eyes before closing them for the last time.


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It had been a long, grueling search; but Markheim had finally done it. He had discovered the location of Fox McCloud. Thanks to the services of an expert hacker, Markheim had been able to determine that although General Peppy Hare had recently rented an upscale room at the top of one of the tallest Cornerian residential skyscrapers, he still maintained a residence elsewhere. This information tipped Markheim off to the possibility that the General was attempting to shelter a close friend of his from harm. It didn't take much more effort for Markheim to discover that Fox and Peppy were very close friends and former comrades. From that point on, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together effortlessly.

With his target's location almost completely ascertained, Markheim hired a cab and traveled into the depths of downtown Corneria City before paying his driver and stepping out onto the sidewalk in front of the impressive tower that housed the apartment where Fox could be found. Thinking about the prospect of 15 million credits caused a faint, grim smile to appear on his lips as he pushed his way through the building's revolving door and entered the silent, empty lobby. Not wanting to rush anything, the lupine took his time and surveyed the large atrium area while looking around for the elevators.

Soon, his eyes caught a glimpse of a sign with an arrow pointing toward the elevator area. Nonchalantly, he crossed the lobby's tile floor until he reached the outside of the silver-trimmed enclosure, where he pressed the 'up' arrow and waited for the elevator to descend to the ground floor. In time, the mechanical device lowered itself and opened its doors, allowing Markheim to step in and press the button marked 70. The elevator complied with his command and almost silently began its ascent while the lupine unzipped his black jacket and unsheathed a sharp, cruel, serrated knife. He held it close to his side, ready to hide it if the need arose. However, the elevator continued its journey to the top floor of the building, unimpeded by anything or anyone.

After reaching the top floor of the skyscraper, the elevator emitted a faint 'ding' noise and opened its doors for Markheim. Holding his knife at waist level with his right hand, blade at the ready, the lupine cautiously crept down the hallway until he reached the last door on the right. This was it—the reward of a lifetime. Looking down the hall to make sure that no one was looking, he removed a small, putty-like plastic explosive and pressed it onto the door's card reader. The explosive compound was designed for tasks exactly like the one Markheim was attempting to accomplish. Its explosive radius was small, its impact was (for the most part) non-lethal; and most importantly, it was very quiet in comparison to a more aggressive explosive such as C-4.

With a placidness that came from having used the explosive many times in the past, Markheim primed the explosive putty and stepped away from the door. Seconds later, a quick, sharp 'bang' resounded through the hallway as the explosive detonated and blasted a fist-sized hole in the door where the lock had formerly been. With the door's security device in pieces on the floor, Markheim effortlessly pushed the door open and entered Fox's room with his knife drawn.

He had expected to find Fox struggling to wake up in his darkened room after the sudden explosion; but instead, he found that the room's lights were still on. Confused and partially concerned, Markheim nimbly crossed the carpeted floor of Fox's room, dodging the myriad boxes and clothes that still had not been put away. Upon reaching the side of Fox's bed, the lupine stopped cold in his tracks and placed his knife back in its sheath.

In front of him was the very same vixen he had seen for the last time almost a full week ago. It was undeniable that she was Kursed—her fur and hair coloration was identical to that of the rogue vulpine bounty huntress. With a disappointed frown, Markheim looked at her and recalled the last question he had ever asked her.

"_If you could do anything at all—knowing that it would be the last thing you ever did—what would you do?"_

Kursed had decided.

Without a hint of any palpable emotion, the cold-hearted lupine looked down at the two vulpines locked in each other's embrace with their muzzles only inches away from each other. Both of them were completely motionless, lying in the bed with the sheets covering their bodies below the waist. On their lips were two indelible, satisfied smiles that could never be erased, even in death.

For the first time since he was a young wolf pup, Markheim felt a tear welling up in his eye. As he solemnly looked down at Fox and Krystal, locked together in an eternal sleep, the solitary teardrop slid down his face and dropped to the floor below. "Goodbye, my friend," he whispered. Then, he grasped the silky bedsheets and slowly pulled them forward, completely covering Fox and Krystal so that only the outlines of their bodies were visible.

After taking one last look at the bed, Markheim turned around and looked at his watch. 12:18 A.M.—one hour short of a week since he had found himself sitting next to Kursed in a hotel waiting room on the night that the doctor had given her a week to live.

One hour short of a week.

_6 Days and 23 Hours._

* * *

_AUTHOR'S NOTE(S):_

_Well, that's it for this story. I hope you enjoyed it. Actually, I'll be honest- I hope you cried; because there's no way that you cried as much as I did while writing this thing. Truthfully, this story was very emotionally draining for me; and I don't plan on doing any more tragedies for a while now.  
_

_At this point, I'm almost certain that 50 reviews is a given; so, with that in mind, I'm proud to announce that I will begin working on a very special Fox x Krystal story that will be posted sometime in December to coincide with the holidays! The length of that story will determine when I post it, so stay tuned for more information.  
_

_I would also like to extend my utmost gratitude to everyone who reviewed, commented, fav'd, or followed this story since I posted it. Thanks to you, _6 Days and 23 Hours_ is now the 4th most reviewed Star Fox tragedy ever posted on this site. I am honestly still blown away that you all liked it that much. Thanks._

_...And now that this story is over, I will start getting back into the rhythm of writing _The Oasis._  
_

Until next time,

-K.S. Reynard


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